


Written by Rabbits

by MechBull



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-12-06 10:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11598459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechBull/pseuds/MechBull
Summary: Things must happen when it is time for them to happen…the happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story.From an anon tumblr prompt: Hogwarts Professors AU





	1. Chapter 1

_As for you and your heart and the things you said and didn’t say, she will remember them all when men are fairy tales in books written by rabbits._

\---

“Oi!”

Fitz turned to look in the direction that his new colleague Lance Hunter was now focusing his attention. Two students, maybe third years by the looks of them, stared wide-eyed back at them for a moment before running and disappearing into the closest compartment.

“What were they doing?”

“I don’t know,” Hunter replied, shrugging. “Probably nothing. Good to keep them on their toes, though.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Fitz said. 

Truthfully, he was nervous about his first year teaching at Hogwarts. It had been close to a decade since he was a student there himself, and while he certainly felt more than capable of instructing young minds in the application of Charms, being Head of Hufflepuff House seemed daunting. He hadn’t been chosen to be a prefect for good reason – he didn’t care for disciplining people unless they truly deserved it, and he wasn’t good at pretending to be intimidating. He suspected this was directly due to his father who, in the few years he had been a part of Fitz’s life, had been very intimidating and had no problem disciplining him harshly for the most minor of offenses. 

Just about the only good thing Alistair Fitz had ever done was leave. Well, and pass along his magical ability to his son. The letter inviting him to Hogwarts had been quite the surprise to both him and his mother, but it turned out he excelled at magic. 

But, it was his turn now to patrol the students’ cars on the Express. Hunter was already mumbling something about Bobbi Morse – the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor – as he headed towards the faculty car Fitz had just left. So, Fitz assumed the air of someone who shouldn’t be trifled with and began to stroll down the corridor. 

He couldn’t help but recall, as he peeked through the occasional window to check on students, his very first ride on the train. He had been terrified, convinced the owl that had delivered his letter had made a mistake. He had a packed lunch and a suitcase full of the most economical robes and books they could find and a brand-new wand that he had been too afraid to touch since it had chosen him. No one else had paid him any attention, which was how Fitz had wanted it. He felt too close to puking to make good conversation with any of his new classmates.

Fitz furrowed his brow as he remembered that wasn’t entirely true. One student had attempted to talk to him. Jemma Simmons. The smartest student in their year, it turned out, and very pretty to boot. She had knocked on the door about ten minutes after the train had rolled out of the station, and asked if anyone was sitting in the seat across from him. Fitz couldn’t speak to strangers on a good day, let alone girls, let alone while on the way to a new school where he was going to learn _magic_ and be away from his mum until _Christmas_. He had just stared at her, speechless, until she gave him a look – hurt or annoyed or both – and then kept walking. 

Fitz hadn’t thought about that in years. He’d put all the memories of Jemma Simmons, his rival for top spot in all their classes throughout their time at Hogwarts, into a box in the back of his brain. For that entire train ride, Fitz had regretted his lack of a response, wondering if she could have been his friend. He had worried that he wouldn’t have _any_ friends, and he’d gone and ruined his first chance. But it wasn’t to be. She never spoke to him again, except to correct him in front of their professors and fellow pupils. If she had accepted the prefect assignment, instead of turning it down to focus on her studies, Fitz presumed she would have taken every single House point from him that she could have. 

It was just as well they didn’t become friends on the train. Everyone knew that Slytherins hated Muggle-borns, even or perhaps especially half-bloods, and so it would have all been for naught as soon as they’d been Sorted. 

Fitz shook his head, clearing his mind of the pointless thoughts. He slid open a door, stepping carefully into the small space between the two train cars. He glanced out the window to the side, watching the landscape fly past. And then, he reached for the door to the next car just as someone else opened it from within and just as the train hit a rough patch of track and jolted. The witch tripped, and without thinking, Fitz threw his arms out to catch her. 

It took several seconds for them to gain their footing and disentangle from each other. Fitz apologized profusely, although he wasn’t quite sure for what, and the witch in his arms seemed equally flustered. His awkwardness only grew once he recognized her.

“Simmons!” Fitz exclaimed dumbly.

She stood as tall as she could, straightening her robes with a bit of a huff. “That’s _Professor_ Simmons to you, Mister – Fitz!”

Fitz blinked. “Professor,” was the only reply he managed.

“Huh?”

“Professor Fitz.”

She continued to stare at him. All Fitz could really think was she was as pretty as she had been the last time he saw her, if not more so, and just as haughty in her superiority. He had barely been able to complete the written portion of his N.E.W.T.s, he had been so distracted by her two seats away. She was so focused on her work, her nose practically touched her exam papers, and her hair cascaded all around her. As if she, of all people, had needed to be nervous; she had earned more top marks than anyone else their year, beating him out by a couple. And then she went off for advanced study in Russia, the last he heard, and he accepted a position with Stark Wizarding Industries, and that was that. 

Until now.

“Oh,” she said, before adding, “Oh! You’re – you’re replacing Professor Coulson now that – ”

“He’s Headmaster. And you must be taking over for – ”

“Professor, well I should say, Minister Garrett.”

Not having to work alongside Professor Garrett, who had terrified him every day for seven years, was one highlight. The Ministry of Magic could have him. However, he hadn’t realized Garrett’s replacement would be equally frightening, if in a different way. 

Fitz swallowed, searching for something to say. Finally, he blurted, “Can you believe Headmaster Fury retired?”

“I can’t imagine Hogwarts without him,” Simmons agreed with a small laugh, continuing the conversation rather than dismissing him and moving on. And with that, Fitz was pretty sure they broke the record for most words ever spoken to each other outside of the classroom. _Ever_.

Fitz stared, at a loss for what to say next, and she shifted her weight, seeming a bit self-conscious about the way he looked at her. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and her eyes darted around wildly. A small blush rose on her cheeks, making Fitz feel even more tongue-tied, and then – 

The door behind him opened. Both Fitz and Simmons jumped, turning to face the new arrival. It was a student, a prefect in his house according to her badge. 

“Is everything all right?” Simmons asked quickly. 

“Yes,” the girl stammered. “I’m just going on rounds. Grant Ward said I should!”

“Of course,” Simmons replied, relaxing enough to calm the student as well. She glanced at Fitz. “Grant Ward is Head Boy. He’s in my House,” she explained. “And this is one of yours, so I’ll just – let you – it was – I’ll see you at dinner, Fitz. I mean, Professor Fitz!”

Fitz didn’t have a chance to respond, with the young girl immediately launching into a greeting when she realized who he was. He barely listened, instead watching Simmons as she continued on, walking into the car he had just been in. Finally, Fitz tore his eyes away and focused on the student.

“I’m sorry? What did you say?”

She seemed uncertain. “I’m – just that I’m looking forward to your class. I like Charms a lot! Professor Cou – Headmaster Coulson has always been my favorite teacher, he looks out for me a lot, because I’m an orphan and so – but I’m sure you’ll be just as good! I’ll do my best to be a good prefect, too. This is my first year at it, so I’m not really sure about it all yet, but I think – ”

“What’s your name?” Fitz interrupted. 

She paused, then looked away. She mumbled something Fitz couldn’t make out.

“Pardon?”

She heaved a breath. “Mary Sue Poots. It’s what they named me at the orphanage,” she said, her voice betraying exactly what she thought of it. “I prefer Skye. My friends call me that, but none of the professors, well, except for Headmaster Coulson, will.”

Fitz nodded in understanding. The only reason he had happily made it through school was because of the tradition to call most people besides one’s closest friends by their surnames. Otherwise, he probably would have faced a similar challenge. 

“Pleased to meet you, Skye,” he replied, noting the way her eyes lit up happily. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine your first year as a prefect, but I’ll make you a deal. I’ll help you out as best as I can, if you’ll help me figure out my first year as a professor.”

“Deal!” she agreed, even as Fitz gestured towards the door. She pulled it open and Fitz held it as they both finally walked into the next car. “And you – you’ll call me Skye?”

He glanced down at her, fighting a smile. “I’ll let you in on a little secret – my first name is Leopold.”

He gave an exaggerated shudder, and Skye laughed out loud.

**

“They’re so tiny,” Fitz muttered. He hadn’t realized he spoke aloud until the teacher next to him quietly snorted in agreement. Fitz glanced over – then up. How had he not noticed he was sitting beside someone at least twice his size? “I suppose everyone seems tiny to you,” he observed.

The man laughed louder, meeting Fitz’s eyes. “Definitely.”

Fitz put his hand out. “Leo Fitz. Charms.”

He nodded. “Coulson’s replacement. I’m Mack. Professor Mackenzie. I teach Magical Creatures.”

“And Head of Ravenclaw, right?” And a quarter Giant, if the rumors were true, not that Fitz cared.

“That’s right, Leo.”

“Ugh,” Fitz replied automatically. “Fitz, please.”

“Pleased to meet you, Fitz.”

“Likewise,” Fitz said.

But before their conversation could continue, Coulson stood up and made his way to the lectern at the center of the dais. After gathering everyone’s attention, he said a few more words – the standard reminders and warnings and announcements Fitz remembered from his own schooldays, albeit less nerve-wracking when they came from Coulson than when Headmaster Fury would stare at them all menacingly with his one eye – and then brought forth the Sorting Hat. 

Fitz listened attentively to its song, curious to hear what wisdom it might impart that year. Alas, its mentions of differences being strengths and reconciliation between Houses seemed fairly straightforward. So, he simply sat back to watch the Sorting, making special note of the Baby Puffs, as they were called back in his day, who would most likely need extra guidance during these first few weeks in particular. He smiled as he watched Skye cheer loudly and present each with the Welcome Scrolls she had made and enthusiastically told him about on the train. 

His own Sorting had been one of the shorter ones. The Hat had fallen over his eyes when Fury had placed it on him, and he had started in surprise when he heard the voice whisper inside his head. 

“Ah, Alistair Fitz’s son, I presume,” it had said. “Now, he was a born Slytherin, so if you’re like him – ”

 _I am nothing like him_ , Fitz had thought with a scowl, trembling on the stool with nerves and rage. 

After a brief pause, the Hat continued, speaking slowly. Fitz felt almost as if it could see deep inside his soul. “No, indeed you are not. In fact, I think you best fit – HUFFLEPUFF!”

His new housemates had welcomed him with cheers and pats to his back as he sat down. Fitz had felt like he had a couple dozen friends already, which was surprising. And he had learned one thing for sure – clearly, Slytherin was not a good House to be in. He had been rather surprised when the girl from the train was finally Sorted into it after the Hat had deliberated for such a long time, it was later announced to be a school record. She hadn’t seemed that bad, but Fitz supposed you never could tell.

**

On one side of her, Bobbi – Professor Morse – quietly talked with Professor Hunter, who Jemma remembered as being the one whose Sorting duration time record she had broken (smashed by more than doubling it, actually). Jemma had spent almost the entire feast scandalized by the way they insulted each other and even more scandalized by the way they flirted with each other _in front of the students_. The rest of the dinner was spent in conversation with the professor on the other side of her, Will Daniels, who had attended Ilvermorny in his youth before moving to the United Kingdom for advanced study with Alphard Maveth, an extremely well-known astronomer. Jemma had already accepted his invitation for a tour of the Astronomy Tower so she could see all the equipment he had installed. And if she’d blushed when he emphasized that it’d be a private tour, she at least consoled herself that the innuendo hadn’t been nearly as obvious as the one Hunter had made to Bobbi over the dessert plates.

On the other side of Professors Daniels and Coulson was a very large man, Alphonso Mackenzie according to Will, and then – Fitz. Jemma hadn’t quite wrapped her mind around him being there. She had never cared for Leopold Fitz, to be honest. He was, well, rude. She had tried to be nice to him their very first day and he ignored her. His compartment had been _entirely empty_ , and he still wouldn’t let her sit with him. And then he had spent every single day for the next seven years trying to show her up in class, never speaking to her otherwise. But she had had the last laugh when she beat him out for top spot in their class at the end. 

Granted, he had seemed rather mellower on the train that day. If she wasn’t mistaken, he had even smiled at her a few times. The way he had looked at her still made her feel a bit – and that was nothing compared to the inexplicable tingles she still felt from when his arms had been around her after she fell. And hadn’t that been embarrassing? Clumsily losing her balance like that in front of _Leopold Fitz_ , of all people. 

She wondered why he had left a no-doubt lucrative job at Stark to teach at Hogwarts.

She wondered what he thought of seeing her again, after all these years. 

She wondered – 

He was looking back at her, his blue eyes shocking her to awareness. She hadn’t even realized she’d been staring. With a jump, Jemma faced forward, devoting all her attention back to the Sorting. She hoped none were as long as hers had been, because she certainly didn’t want to risk any more chances of being humiliated that evening. 

She frowned slightly as she thought of the time she had spent on the stool. Other students later described their own experiences to her, talking about the Hat’s observations. Some had even conversed with it, while others bordered on debate or argument. Jemma had heard nothing. When the Hat was placed on her head, she had simply sighed in resignation as she waited for it to shout out Ravenclaw as it had for every other member of both sides of her family as far back as they had records.

And waited and waited and waited…

Seventeen long minutes had passed without a peep from the Hat. She could vaguely hear, beyond the fabric, impatient rustling and shocked murmurs growing louder as time seemed to crawl by. And then the Hat had shouted Slytherin to everyone’s surprise, especially Jemma’s. Once the Hat had been removed, she immediately spotted her cousins’ aghast, betrayed expressions, and then she made her way to the Slytherin table. They welcomed her with polite claps and a few formal nods. For two years, Jemma resented not being privy to the Hat’s deliberations about her future or its observations of her personality and character. It was only at the Sorting of her youngest cousin, after he ran happily to join his siblings at the Ravenclaw table, that she realized she didn’t need a magical object to tell her who she was. _She_ decided who she was, and who she would be, like any true Slytherin. 

There were thankfully no Hatstalls this year, and as soon as Zloda, Xenia, hopped off the stool and joined the Gryffindor table, Coulson faced the student body again.

“Welcome, welcome, all of you. We look forward to seeing you develop as witches and wizards and contribute to our school. I also would like you to welcome at this time your new professors.” He half-turned, nodding first at Fitz, then at Jemma, and gestured for them to stand. “Professor Fitz, Charms and Head of Hufflepuff, and Professor Simmons, Potions and Head of Slytherin. I trust you will give them the same respect and attention you give all your instructors, and I envy you for the magic you will learn from them.”

Jemma smiled at the compliment as well as the applause, even if it was half-hearted and compulsory at best. She made brief eye contact with Fitz again, then looked away quickly, choosing instead to smile at Will as he winked up at her while he clapped along with the students.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m a decent amount into this and I have a general idea how the rest of it is going to go, but to be on the safe side and because I seriously need to get some RL stuff done during the remainder of this summer, I’m going to try to hold off on posting too quickly. (I can never wait until I’m actually done!) My aim is maybe twice a week, but I mean, we all know I have no self-control and it will probably be more often than that.
> 
> Bonus points to people who catch the Last Unicorn references sprinkled throughout this fic. Some (e.g. title, summary) are more obvious than others! 
> 
> Minor warnings: 1) there will be _some_ Jemma/Will in this, as you've probably guessed. 2) the fic might flirt with a more mature rating at times, but at this point, I do not see it being more than that.


	2. Chapter 2

Jemma was heading to the Great Hall, planning to have a quick breakfast before her very first class – Advanced Potions with the seventh-year Ravenclaws, so she’d need to be at her best – when she stopped in her tracks halfway through the Entrance Hall. There, right in front of her very eyes, were the hourglasses tracking house points. And somehow, before the year had even officially begun, Slytherin was already down 10 points, while all the other Houses were as full as they had been the night before. 

“What?” she wondered aloud. 

How could this – who – what? This did not reflect well on her, and she was determined to find out what had happened. She spun on her foot abruptly and continued towards the Great Hall. At the same time, two giggling students, probably second years judging by their ages, ran down the stairs and barreled right into her, nearly knocking her over. When everyone regained their balance, the students stared up at her, speechless and pale.

“So – so – sorry, Professor – ” one of them, the Gryffindor, managed. 

The Hufflepuff looked like she was about to burst into tears. 

Jemma waved a hand in dismissal. She could accept her own role in the collision. However – “No running, please.”

“Yes, Professor Simmons,” they both rushed to say. 

“Go eat some breakfast before class,” she added.

“You’re not going to take any points, are you?” the Gryffindor asked, just shy of begging. “I don’t want to be the second student to already lose points!”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you know who the first was?”

They looked at each other, hesitant to tattle, but then the Gryffindor replied, “Grant Ward.”

“The Head Boy?!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What did he do?”

“Um…Professor Fitz…” the Hufflepuff began. 

Jemma closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. She should have known. Fitz would have taken the first opportunity he could to beat her at something. And when she had simply chided one of his own misbehaving students! Grant Ward? A Slytherin prefect – _Head Boy_ – at that! What could he possibly have done?

She noticed that the child had trailed off, apparently unable to continue. She opened her eyes. The poor girl was shaking. Jemma fixed her stare on the Gryffindor friend, who took a deep breath. 

“Professor Fitz overheard him talking to a friend about having Care of Magical Creatures today and he said – said – ”

“Said _what_?”

“It’s something bad about a professor,” she confessed. “I don’t know if I should repeat it.”

“You will not get into trouble.” 

“He said,” the student reported, whispering so quietly Jemma had to lean closer to hear, “that he didn’t know how – how a…giant oaf…like Professor Mackenzie could be a Ravenclaw.”

If Jemma had been angry before, she was livid now. Of all the unfortunate Slytherin stereotypes. She shook her head, then waved the students towards the Great Hall.

“Thank you. Eat breakfast.”

They bolted from her, catching each other just in time before they began to run and instead walked as fast as they could away. Jemma took another calming breath and then she headed towards the Charms room at a slower pace than before.

She was halfway there when she saw Grant Ward herself. 

“Mr. Ward!” she shouted. 

He paused, turning to face her, and then walked closer. 

“Professor Simmons, do you need something?”

“If I ever hear of you saying such a thing again, you will lose more than 10 points, do you understand?”

“Professor Simmons, I don’t think that I – ”

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With that, she moved on, her robes swirling around her feet with the speed of her steps. Moments later, she sensed Ward start to walk again, continuing in the direction of the Owlery, but she was already focused on her destination. 

Luckily, the classroom was empty, except for Fitz. He sat at his desk, leaning on his elbow and pulling at his curly hair as he read through what looked to be his lesson plan for the day. Jemma was reminded of the way he’d sit at the back table of the library during exam weeks when they were students. He would have benefited from a study schedule like hers and a bit more organization, but he always seemed to do annoyingly well anyway. Jemma knocked on the open door, and he glanced up with a start. 

His eyes narrowed. “If you’re here to complain about Ward, then – ”

Jemma straightened at the implication, even if it had been her initial reaction upon discovering it had been him. 

“I would never undermine another professor’s authority,” she said, rather scornfully.

“Oh,” Fitz replied, somewhat dumbfounded. He stood up suddenly, as if he belatedly decided he was being rude. “Then…why are you here?”

Jemma had no response to that, especially not when he walked closer and stared at her expectantly. She crossed her arms to stall. “To – to say – good luck on your first day.”

“Oh.” He was clearly still confused. “You too.”

Jemma swallowed. She had not thought this through. His unprecedented friendliness on the train had disconcerted her and now – she fell back on their old rivalry. “And Slytherin will still win the House Cup this year.”

His head bobbed back in surprise, and then he worked his jaw. “Care to wager on that?” 

“Certainly. Under the condition that any deductions and rewards are reasonable and consistent with those for any student, regardless of House.”

Fitz blinked. “Hufflepuffs value fair play,” he said significantly.

Jemma bristled at the insinuation. As if she ever had to cheat to beat him. “What does the loser do?”

He stepped closer. “Whatever the winner wants.”

It was dangerous to agree to such a vague term, but Jemma was too riled up to think of a better one. She held out her hand, and Fitz shook it, and she felt exhilarated. By the challenge, of course. 

“Class starts in five minutes,” he observed. “Shouldn’t you be in your _dungeon_?”

 _Bloody hell_. Jemma turned without even a goodbye. She hurried as fast as she could without running and setting a bad example. Damn that Leopold Fitz.

**

“Hi.”

Fitz jumped in surprise, then turned to watch as Hunter stepped out from behind a painting. 

“Where did you – ?”

“Secret corridor,” he explained, “to the Quidditch locker rooms. You didn’t know about that one?”

Fitz scoffed. “I could never really master flying,” he admitted. “The only passageways I know lead to the library and kitchen.”

“Well,” Hunter replied, winking mischievously, “I know them all. Benefit of being a prefect.”

They started walking down the hall towards Fitz’s classroom. “You know,” Fitz reminisced, “you were the only prefect to ever take points away from me.”

Hunter gaped in surprise. “I don’t remember that.”

“I bet you don’t remember me from school at all.”

“Nah, sorry. Didn’t pay too much attention to the pipsqueaks my last couple of years. Simmons I knew of, because she broke my record, but…”

Fitz shrugged. “I wouldn’t expect you to know everyone five years behind you. Even if they did accidentally start a fire in the third-floor bathroom.”

Hunter stopped walking abruptly, placing a hand on Fitz’s arm. “I do remember! What were you doing anyway? Smoking?”

Fitz blushed furiously. “Practicing making a hair-raising potion before class,” he admitted. Hufflepuff had Double Potions with Slytherin that term and he was determined to beat Simmons in class one damn time. 

Hunter glanced at him incredulously. “Sure you’re not a Ravenclaw?”

Fitz shrugged. He didn’t know if he could attribute the desire to achieve academic success solely to learning for learning’s sake. “No offense, but you never seemed like an obvious choice to be a prefect,” he said in an attempt to change the subject.

Hunter snorted. “None taken. Still don’t get it myself. But I managed to be just good enough all three years. I finally snapped at the N.E.W.T.s and set off _twenty-seven_ dungbombs. I thought Bobbi was going to kill me.”

“That was _you_?” Fitz exclaimed. “I thought that was a legend!”

Hunter shook his head, laughing. But before Fitz could ask more, he pointed off to the side and announced he was heading that way. Fitz looked on in confusion, suddenly realizing they were heading in the exact opposite direction of the Alchemy classroom. But he waited until Hunter jumped across the moving staircase before he spoke.

“Where are you going? Don’t you teach next period? Or is there another secret passageway I don’t know about?”

“No,” Hunter replied, “and it’s my free hour. I just haven’t bothered Bobbi yet today.”

Fitz watched him until he disappeared, shaking his head. He wondered why someone would go all the way across the castle just to talk to someone he claimed to hate. And then he quickly suppressed the memory of Simmons surprisingly appearing at his classroom door that morning.

**

At the sound of sniffles and quiet murmurs, Jemma slowed. There were far too many nooks and crannies in the corridor leading to the Potions room. Many students have hidden in them over the years, for a variety of good and bad reasons. This one sounded like a bad one. Jemma snuck closer to the sound, wanting to avoid interrupting until she knew what was happening.

“Do you miss your mum and dad too?” a little voice asked. A homesick first-year?

“I never knew them, but I miss them every day,” someone responded. “I can’t imagine how much worse it must be for you, after living with them your whole life.” 

“They don’t – they don’t even know how to write to me here. They’re _accountants_.”

“Well,” the older girl said, “how about after your class, you and me go up to the Owlery and use one of the school’s owls to send them instructions, and they can send a note back to you.”

“Can we go now?”

“Oh no,” came the reply. “You don’t want to miss your first day of Potions, do you?”

After a brief silence, the young one sniffled again. “Professor Simm’ns is Head of Slytherin, though.”

Jemma looked around the corridor, blinking quickly. Sometimes, she could still feel the sting of all the old assumptions people made about her. She far preferred it when people liked her.

“So?” asked the older girl.

“So…Ruby said she won’t like me because I’m a – ”

“I don’t think that’s true. Professor Simmons doesn’t seem like that to me. And Janice told _me_ that they made Forgetfulness potion this morning, and you don’t want to miss that!”

“I don’t?”

“Trust me!” 

And then there was the sound of both students climbing to their feet. Jemma looked around nervously, then ran as quietly as she could back around the corner. She leaned against the wall, trying to control her breathing. While she waited for them to disappear, she mentally rearranged her class schedule. The Forgetfulness potion had been a lesson for the Hufflepuff first-years, and she had planned something else entirely for the Gryffindors. But that could wait until next time. 

She had perhaps foolishly expected both students to leave in the same direction, and so, when someone rounded the corner, Jemma wasn’t sure which of them jumped the highest at realizing they were not alone. Jemma sighed in relief that it was the older girl – the Hufflepuff prefect from the train – rather than the little one. They made eye contact for a moment, and the student seemed uncertain. Then Jemma smiled. 

“Ten points to Hufflepuff,” she said, before pushing off the wall. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Miss…Poots, I believe.”

She didn’t quite understand why, after being awarded house points, the girl sighed, nodded and walked off with drooping shoulders.

**

“Well,” Bobbi observed, settling onto a chair in the staffroom. “One day in, and I’m already exhausted.”

Will chuckled in agreement. “And I still have a midnight class tonight.”

“No sympathies, mate,” Hunter replied from where he was flopped near Bobbi. “I had to teach Alchemy _and_ flying. To Gryffindors, who refuse to wait for any damn instructions before they’re trying to take off. I had to take twenty points from my own house.”

Jemma cringed at the reference, suspecting she knew what was coming. It was, however, Professor Mackenzie who said it, which was a bit of a surprise.

“Looks like Fitz is the only one who can be happy in that regard. Gryffindor’s down 20, Slytherin’s down 10, and Ravenclaw broke even. And then there’s Hufflepuff…”

“Ten up,” Fitz finished, smirking as he took a sip of his tea.

Jemma somewhat regretted her impulsive generosity, and she was determined he wouldn’t find out who had awarded the points, if she had any control over the matter. She didn’t look at him with her next statement, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing the situation bothered her. “The year’s still young,” she merely observed, as pointedly as possible. Then she took a bite of her biscuit.


	3. Chapter 3

“So, what did you think?” 

“Best class of the year so far!” Skye enthused.

Fitz chuckled. That had been her response after every Charms period that term to date. As much as he’d like to believe otherwise, he didn’t think he was capable of surpassing himself – not to mention all the other teachers – every other day in a row for a month. But he appreciated Skye’s support, even if she had been noticeably distracted that day and so he doubted the truthfulness of her statement.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, as he led her out of the classroom and towards the Great Hall for supper.

She looked up at him, turning sheepish when she realized she’d been caught. Then she shrugged.

“Worried about the match tomorrow.”

“Why?” Fitz asked nicely. “Professor Hunter said you are a great Chaser.”

“Really?” Skye beamed at the compliment, before losing a bit of her confidence again. “I guess. But well, the whole school will be watching and – well, it’s not like that’s the first time, but he – ”

She broke off, blushing furiously. Ah, Fitz thought, fighting a smile. Then he felt at a loss as to how to respond. While he certainly wanted to encourage her so she felt better, he didn’t think it was particularly appropriate for a professor to comment on a student’s crush. If for no other reason, then because it was bound to embarrass her even more. 

“Just play your best,” Fitz advised. “That’s all anyone can do.”

They’d made it to the Great Hall by then, and Skye used the opportunity to say a quick goodbye and run off to the Hufflepuff table. Fitz called a good luck after her and headed up towards the teachers’ table with a grin.

“Skye?”

He turned quickly in surprise. He hadn’t realized Simmons was right behind them. He wondered how much she’d heard, and he felt strangely embarrassed himself. He turned away and continued to walk towards the front of the hall, now with Simmons at his side.

“Pardon?” he asked, stalling.

“You just called Miss Poots Skye,” she reminded him unnecessarily. “Why?”

“Because that is what she prefers to be called. She asked me to.”

He waited for Simmons to scold him for not only being informal but also indulging a student’s ‘whimsical’ request. It hardly seemed like something she would understand, but then there was nothing wrong with the name Jemma Simmons, was there? It was a perfectly beautiful name. But instead, she just seemed further confused.

“She’s never said anything to me.”

Fitz shrugged, stepping out of the way so she could walk behind the table towards her seat first. “She probably doesn’t think you’d agree. Most of the professors don’t, apparently. And you’re definitely the type to enforce the rules.”

“I appreciate rules,” Simmons argued, only proving his point, “but certainly some rules can be…bent, if no real harm is done.”

“Spoken like a true Slytherin,” Fitz observed, not entirely sure if he meant it as a compliment or a crack. And he was too flustered to figure it out once he realized he had just pulled Simmons’ seat out for her.

She stared at the chair like it was some creature Mack had discovered in the lake, and then she looked at him with a withering glance. To be fair, that might have had more to do with the Slytherin comment.

“Enjoy your dinner, Professor Fitz,” she said, clearly dismissing him. 

Fitz let go of the chair – she certainly was capable of sitting down by herself, after all – and continued onto his own spot at the table. He tried not to blush when Mack raised his eyebrow curiously at the interaction.

**

It was still early in the term, but the first signs of autumn were making themselves known. Jemma pulled on her heavier robes before heading out to the Quidditch pitch and even briefly considered her scarf. She passed on that, but did stop by the Great Hall for a mug of cider to carry with her. She fought an inexplicable smile when she saw Fitz kneeling on the bench along the students’ table and giving Miss Poots – _Skye_ , she reminded herself – and the rest of his House’s team a pep talk.

Her smile grew even more inexplicably wider when he glanced up, spotted her, quickly wrapped up the speech, and hurried after her. He caught up to her easily just as she’d made her way into the corridor again. She told herself that she had only slowed her pace because she didn’t want to spill her drink on herself.

“Rooting for Ravenclaw today, I’m sure,” he observed, “since the winning House earns five points.”

“Don’t count your diamonds just yet, Professor Fitz,” Jemma replied. “According to Professor Morse, Ravenclaw is the team to beat this year.”

“I feel like you might just be suggesting another friendly wager,” Fitz hinted, as he pushed open one of the doors and gestured for her to walk through. 

“How many bets are you looking to lose to me this year?” Fitz only made a clucking sound that made Jemma see red. “Fine, I bet Ravenclaw wins.”

“I bet they’ll be up in points, but Hufflepuff gets the Snitch and takes the match.”

“And the terms?”

“Loser buys the winner a butterbeer next weekend at Hogsmeade.”

Jemma didn’t know who was more shocked by the proposal – herself, or Fitz who was suddenly wide-eyed and flushing bright red. Jemma felt like she had gone extremely pale, her heart thudding as she remembered the very first time she’d been asked to go to Hogsmeade with a boy and she hadn’t known what to say. She was overreacting, she was certain. Clearly Fitz did not mean it in _that_ way. 

But ultimately, it didn’t matter how he meant it, because she already had plans for the following weekend. No one needed to know that that invitation hadn’t flustered her anywhere near as much as this most recent one.

“I – I have – I’ll be spending the day with – Professor Daniels,” Jemma finally replied. 

“Oh,” he muttered, turning from her and staring straight ahead. “Just forget it then.”

Jemma’s brow furrowed. She didn’t know if he meant the terms or the wager or – or – and then he was turning away from her to climb into the faculty stands and leaving Jemma feeling very confused and very alone. She followed him up the stairs slowly, and could barely pay attention to the match once it began. She kept feeling like his eyes were on her, but every time she looked, he was talking with Mack or Bobbi or Hunter. Will shouted into her ear above the cheers through most of the game, explaining it to her as if she’d never seen a Quidditch match before. Jemma simply nodded along. 

In the end, Hufflepuff caught the Snitch, but it was a hollow victory, as Ravenclaw had been too far ahead by that point. They – and thus, Jemma – won. She had a hard time feeling happy about it.

**

By the following Friday afternoon, it was almost pointless to try to teach the students anything. Those who were going to Hogsmeade the next day were already mentally there, and those who were too young or didn’t have permission or who had lost the privilege were either resentful and sad or planning their own weekend festivities within the castle. Jemma struggled to hold their attention until the end of her last class, but she herself breathed a sigh of relief when she finally dismissed them.

She and Bobbi were the first teachers into the staffroom, and Jemma prepared her tea while Bobbi loaded her plate with cookies and sandwiches and all the other goodies the castle elves had made. 

“Are you on duty here tomorrow, or will you be going to the village?” Jemma asked politely.

“Village,” Bobbi confirmed. “I think Mack, Coulson, and Madam Rodriguez are staying here. Hunter and I always take the first weekend to go to Madam Puddifoot’s to commemorate our first, last and only, horribly failed date our first trip there.”

Jemma smiled at Bobbi’s own mischievous smirk, but felt a bit odd about the whole weekend again when Bobbi asked about her own plans.

“Oh,” Jemma said, stalling. “I haven’t been there since I was a student, so I imagine we’ll want to check out many places.”

“ _We?_ ”

Jemma blushed, looking down to focus on the teacup in her hands.

“I see,” Bobbi teased. “I thought there might have been something going on between you too. Perhaps we’ll see you at Madam Puddifoot’s too.”

“Oh,” Jemma said, scoffing lightly. “I don’t know. I’m not sure Will even – ”

“Will?” Bobbi interrupted, sounding confused.

Jemma stared at her. “Professor Daniels,” she said slowly, confused at Bobbi’s surprise. “Who else did you think I meant?”

“No one, never mind.”

Jemma stared at her a moment more and then realized she must have meant – well, it was just silly. Just because they were the only two new professors. Just because they were the same age and had gone to school together. Just – just because – well, Bobbi apparently couldn’t see what was right in front of her own face with Hunter, so how could anyone expect her to – Jemma opened her mouth to respond, feeling rather affronted by the whole situation.

Bobbi placed a hand on her shoulder before Jemma could speak. “Don’t bother. You can’t lie to a Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Jemma said coolly, before turning to leave the room.

**

Fitz stood next to Hunter, arms crossed in a half-hearted attempt to control the barely-contained enthusiasm among the students queuing by the gates. Coulson would open them soon, and then there’d be a mad dash for the village. Fitz was organizing his own inner itinerary – he planned to start with Honeydukes.

“Want to grab a butterbeer with me?”

“In the afternoon, sure, mate,” Hunter replied. “Need to suffer through lace and frills and perfume first.”

“Madam Puddifoot’s?” Fitz asked, a bit surprised.

Hunter chuckled. “Bobbi,” he said, as if that was an explanation. In a way, it kind of was.

“When are you just going to ask her out for real, instead of arguing with her all the time?” Fitz wondered.

There was a long silence, and Fitz finally glanced at Hunter to see why he wasn’t responding. He was simply staring at Fitz with an incredulous expression. 

“What?”

“You really wanna go down that line of questioning?”

Fitz felt like he was missing something, but he was distracted from asking for clarification by Simmons and Daniels coming out of the castle. Fitz looked away so it didn’t seem like he was staring. 

“What do you think of him?”

“Who?”

Fitz nodded subtly in their direction, and Hunter turned to look. Fitz nearly scolded him for being so obvious, but before long, Hunter was facing him again. He shrugged.

“I think it’s fitting that she’s going with him.”

“Wh – wh – why do you say that?”

“Because the village has hog right in its name?”

“Huh?”

“He has a hog face.”

“You’re right; he does,” came the unexpected reply.

Both Fitz and Hunter turned to greet Bobbi. The interruption gave Fitz the opportunity to try to clear his head. He didn’t know why Will Daniels bothered him so much. Maybe it was just because he was American, muscular and athletic? Everything Fitz wasn’t? Whatever he was, he was definitely _Simmons’_ type. She’d gone to Hogsmeade with several boys throughout their schooling, and they all looked like they could have played Quidditch professionally. Gryffindor Captain Mike Peterson, four years ahead of them, who asked her the very first time their class was able to go, actually had, before a leg injury so bad even magic couldn’t fix it completely had forced his retirement. Even that Ravenclaw, Milton, with his ginormous cabbage-shaped head, who took Simmons one weekend their fourth year, was at least six feet tall. 

Fitz shook his head at himself. He still didn’t know what had possessed him to suggest they go together, anyway. Who would want to spend that much time with Jemma Simmons? He was lucky, really, that she’d already made plans. If he had thought about it at all for one second before blurting it out –

He had thought about it once, he remembered somewhat sheepishly. He had overheard Sally Webber tell Simmons that she was getting something of a reputation, going to Hogsmeade with so many boys but then never dating them again. Simmons had said something about how they should be the ones getting reputations for being completely uninteresting. He had realized then that, apparently unlike those other guys, he could at least hold an intelligent conversation with her. Probably. He had never tried. But the point was, he knew that she had been as worried as he was about their approaching O.W.L.s. He figured he could ask her to use the weekend trip to quiz each other. They couldn’t do it at the Three Broomsticks, of course, too noisy. It would have to be somewhere more conducive to studying, like – like Madam Puddifoot’s or somewhere. Once he had made up his mind, Fitz had walked all the way over to the library table where she was sitting, only to hear her tell Sally that even though she had been planning to just stay in the castle and study, Antoine Triplett had been too convincing when he asked her to go with him. Fitz had frozen, and when Simmons looked up and gave him a somewhat aggressively curious, or maybe just aggressive, look, he had jumped and pretended he was searching for a book on the nearby shelf. 

Back then, he might have been stupid enough to think it was a good idea, but at least he wasn’t stupid enough to have actually asked her. Fitz sighed, then forced a smile when Bobbi and Hunter looked at him. He was saved from having to explain himself by the gates opening and the children screaming in joy as they ran out. Fitz carefully avoided looking at Simmons and Daniels as they all left the grounds. They were probably holding hands or something equally inappropriate.

**

At a discreet cough from a nearby student, Jemma looked up. The sand in the hourglass was almost all in the bottom.

“Everyone, please carefully move your cauldrons to the shelf in the corner. This concoction must sit for one day exactly, so be sure to be on time to class tomorrow. When you have cleaned your stations, you may leave.”

She then focused back on the student she was helping. Mr. Banks tried hard but was not destined for a career as a Potions master. The sludge in his cauldron was clearly not going to turn into the thin, iridescent blue it should, but with a little luck, it might still be salvageable. 

Banks sighed, looking dejectedly at his cauldron. “Maybe you should just deduct the House points now.”

“Mr. Banks, you will earn the appropriate grade on this, but I don’t believe in punishing a student for trying their best, any more than I believe in rewarding one for academic success, as if a high mark weren’t enough. I especially don’t believe an entire House should suffer or benefit based on one student’s progress through their education. Now, move your cauldron over to the shelf, and we’ll see what we can do next time.”

He did, and Jemma moved away from the table, heading back towards her desk. It was then that she noticed one student was lingering, somewhat suspiciously.

“Skye?”

She jumped and turned to face Jemma, hiding something behind her back. Jemma narrowed her eyes, an almost comical contrast to Skye’s own wide ones. Jemma wondered if the expression had to do with whatever she was concealing or if it was because Jemma had used her chosen name.

“Did you need something?” Jemma asked pointedly.

Skye shook her quickly, turned back to the desk, placed the item on the surface, and scurried out of the Dungeon. Jemma waited until Banks had left as well, then walked the rest of the way to the front of the room. She stopped in her tracks as soon as she saw the unexpected item.

A bottle of butterbeer. 

A mix of emotions rushed through Jemma. A weird sort of happiness that Fitz had remembered and thought of it. Disappointment that it meant she couldn’t cash in sometime in person or that he hadn’t at least brought it to her himself, not that – well, not that – 

And mostly annoyance and a bit of embarrassment that he was involving a _student_ in their…rivalry or whatever it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit for the hogface line goes to notapepper!


	4. Chapter 4

Jemma climbed the stairs to the Astronomy Tower with perhaps a bit less enthusiasm than she felt she should have. It had taken her several confused moments at dinner – she blamed Madam Rodriguez’s distracting peals of laughter in response to whatever joke Fitz had just told her – to realize Will had been attempting to schedule their long-planned tour. And while she was certainly intrigued by the stargazing equipment he had described to her, she had to admit that their Hogsmeade trip hadn’t left her with a burning desire to spend more time alone with him. 

But he was nice and attractive, she supposed, and she had no other plans for the evening, and so…

Will greeted her with a quick peck to the cheek. The tour itself wasn’t nearly as illuminating as Jemma had hoped, with Will only briefly answering some of her more technical questions before he guided her out to the balcony. He had placed two chairs side-by-side under the stars, and Jemma supposed it was rather a romantic setting to get to know each other better. Surely, not all of his stories were as boring as the ones he had told at Madam Puddifoot’s. 

Jemma sat down. When Will sat in the other chair and turned towards her, Jemma smiled.

“Tell me more about Ilvermorny. Do you – have Houses?”

“Mmm, yes,” Will responded, settling back into his chair. “I am a Thunderbird, named for a magical creature related to phoenixes and most commonly found in Arizona.” With a debonair grin, he added, “They can sense danger, and when flying, their massive wings create storms.”

“And what type of students get sorted into Thunderbird?” Jemma asked, intrigued by the historical magical traditions of a different country. When she had been in Russia, she had done her best to learn all about Koldovstoretz, and a neighbor of hers in Manchester had graduated from Beauxbatons, but she had never known any Ilvermorny students.

“It’s based on elements of a person, mostly,” Will explained. “Thunderbird represents the soul, and favors adventurers.”

Jemma hummed. It was quite poetic. Perhaps that was why she didn’t back away when Will leaned closer and kissed her. It was gentle and soft, hinting at more, but Jemma didn’t chase after it. Instead, she pulled away and turned to her back to stare up at the stars. “Have you gone on many adventures, Will? Besides coming here, I suppose?”

“A few,” he confirmed. He began to describe his travels and Jemma closed her eyes to imagine as she listened.

**

“Jemma. Jemma. _Professor Simmons_.”

She jerked, saved from falling out of the chair by Will’s hold on her arm. She blinked, looking around and feeling groggy.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I must have fallen asleep.”

While Will’s smile didn’t quite seem sincere, he did brush away her apology and help her to her feet. 

“What time is it?” Jemma wondered. 

“Midnight.”

“Oh, oh my. Well after curfew.” 

“For students,” Will pointed out, his tone somewhat suggestive. 

“Still – I should head back to – thank you, Will. I had a lovely evening.”

“We should do – ”

“Good night,” Jemma interrupted, not sure how she wanted to answer any request for another date.

She hurried down the stairs of the tower, running a hand through her no doubt disheveled hair. Hopping off the bottom step, she turned in the direction of the Slytherin dungeons and – ran into Fitz. Literally.

His arms wrapped around her to prevent her from falling, much like he had caught her that day on the Hogwarts Express. Jemma gasped in – in surprise – at the embrace and she pushed him away as soon as she managed to gain control of herself. Fitz didn’t completely let her go, instead cupping his hands under her elbows briefly, but then seemed to realize he still held her. With a very large step backward, he put more space between them.

“What are you doing here?” Jemma demanded, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

“Walking,” Fitz replied, testily and somewhat vague. “Did you want to take away some points for being out past curfew?”

Jemma huffed, straightening her robes and fighting the urge to fix her hair again.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Fitz asked, glancing quickly up the stairs towards the Astronomy Tower.

Of all the nerve – as if he had any – why, she – “Will was showing me his telescope,” Jemma said, raising her chin into the air.

“I’m sure he was,” Fitz muttered.

Jemma flushed immediately as she realized what her statement had sounded like. Of course, Fitz was the one who turned it into crude innuendo, not her. “He’s a wonderful _astronomer_ ,” Jemma bit out, realizing it sounded more like she was implying something else, rather than trying to take the high road against Fitz’s insinuations like she’d intended. 

“None of my business,” Fitz accurately declared, throwing his hands out to the side as he stepped around her and made his way towards the kitchens. “Date whoever you want.”

“I don’t need your permission,” Jemma reminded him, before marching away. The next day, after the staff meeting, she would ask Will when he would like to see her again. Perhaps next time, she _won’t_ fall asleep on him.

**

Fitz yawned, even as his stomach gurgled in reminder of all the late-night snacks the castle elves had piled into his arms when he showed up in the kitchens still fuming from his _discussion_ with Professor Simmons. He had been completely unable to concentrate on his marking the night before – that was part of the reason he had taken to wandering the halls. His only consolation was that he knew he wasn’t the only professor shirking his work that evening, since he had overheard Daniels and Simmons making plans during dinner. And then he had somehow ended up right outside the Astronomy Tower when she _finally_ left and their – encounter – had left him…well, he had been quite unable to sleep, as he thought of all the comebacks he should have said. Now, he tried to pay attention to Coulson during the staff meeting, but it took all his energy just to stay awake.

Until Coulson raised a non-academic concern, at least. 

“I know I don’t have to remind you,” he reminded them anyway, “that there has been a growing concern among the Wizarding community regarding witches and wizards with unprecedented levels of magical ability.”

Fitz perked up. The development was curious – he was interested in doing some side research at some point, but for now, he was more concerned with the rhetoric at the highest levels of the Ministry in opposition to the _powers_ , as they were being called in the _Daily Prophet_. In fact, it was his outspoken mistrust of them that had swept Garrett to victory. 

“It’s quite interesting, isn’t it?” Simmons mused. “Being able to do so many spells – difficult, potentially dangerous spells – without a wand”

Fitz rolled his eyes. “ _You_ do magic without a wand,” he reminded her. 

“Well-understood magic. Certainly nothing like this,” Simmons replied, her excitement growing. “And don’t you think it’s curious that all of them, at least those known so far, are half-bloods? Perhaps – ”

“Trust a Slytherin to make that observation,” Fitz muttered before he could stop himself. 

“Ugh, Fitz!” Simmons responded, sounding more hurt than angry. “Many of the students in Slytherin are half-bloods these days, but that doesn’t change the fact that this could represent some sort of genetic ability introduced into the wizarding population through mixing with Muggles. If I could just get some samples – ”

“Anyway,” Coulson interrupted pointedly, and Fitz focused on his words rather than the way Daniels briefly placed a hand on Simmons’ shoulder. “I raise this issue because I know of two students and one staff member who have demonstrated these abilities. Their identities will be kept anonymous for their own protection.”

“Including from faculty who want to study them like lab rats?” Fitz asked, purposely ignoring that he had just been thinking about how he’d like to do some research of his own.

He had spoken under his breath, but the way Simmons tensed up indicated that it hadn’t been as quiet as he thought. The way she chased after him once the meeting concluded only proved that. 

“I don’t know what I did to make you hate me so much, Leopold Fitz,” she hissed, as she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, “but I would think you of all people would be scientifically-minded enough not to believe all House stereotypes. _Clearly_ not all Hufflepuffs are kind and tolerant, after all!” 

She stomped away then. Fitz opened his mouth, wanting to call out for her to stop or to apologize or something, but he couldn’t find the words.

**

Jemma sat in the back corner of the Potions classroom, debating whether she really wanted to go eat dinner at all. After the disastrous staff meeting that morning, and three unproductive classes where she had snapped at students until one first-year had cried, she kind of felt like staying by herself. She began to pour different ingredients into the cauldron in front of her, setting it to mix together slowly. With a sigh, she rested her chin on her hand while she waited for it to finish.

A knock interrupted her, and Jemma looked up – with surprise and more than a little trepidation – to see Fitz standing in the open doorway. She dropped her gaze and didn’t say anything, which he took as permission to enter. Her heart started pounding as he walked towards her, and she focused intently on the swirling potion when he sat on the stool across from her.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I don’t know why I did.”

“It’s fine,” Jemma said quickly. It really wasn’t, but she didn’t want to have this conversation. 

After a brief silence, Fitz continued, “I don’t hate you. I always thought we’d get on, actually.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

Fitz sighed. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as he ran a hand through his hair. “I know that…I know that not all Slytherins are bad,” he said, and Jemma did her best not to react immediately, “but…my dad was.”

She looked up in surprise. He was avoiding her eyes, staring off to the side and wringing his hands. She hesitated, and then put her hand over his. He flinched, unexpectedly making eye contact with her. She saw his tears before he blinked them quickly away. 

“My dad was,” he repeated, shrugging as if he hadn’t just told her something incredibly important. 

“Fitz,” Jemma said slowly, “it’s been almost 17 years. All those years, we could have – maybe it’s time we became friends. Or at least friend _ly_.”

Jemma was struck then by how _nice_ he looked when he smiled. He cleared his throat, looking down at their clasped hands, and Jemma let go, feeling self-conscious.

“D’you want to go get dinner?” he asked.

Jemma shrugged but made no move to leave the Dungeon. “We could just ask the elves to bring some food here, if you want to sample that potion.” 

She nodded at the cauldron, and Fitz sat straighter to look inside.

“What is it?”

“Give it a taste. It should be done.”

Fitz shot her a slightly suspicious look, but he gamely picked up the ladle on the table next to it. With only a bit of hesitation, he tasted it. Then he raised his eyebrows and swallowed.

“That’s wine,” he observed.

Jemma smirked. “Quite resourceful and clever of me, isn’t it?”

His laugh was even nicer than his smile.


	5. Chapter 5

“What was Russia like?”

Jemma didn’t answer at first, frankly surprised that Fitz even knew where she had done her advanced studies. She supposed it wasn’t that strange for him to know; she had known where he worked after graduation, after all. And she had come to realize that Fitz must have been a lot more aware of her throughout school than she had ever suspected. 

“Oh, very interesting,” she finally replied, after taking a quick sip of her tea. 

Their schedules both ended early on Thursday afternoons. While she had been planning on getting some marking done, Fitz had shown up outside her classroom with two steaming mugs and invited her out for a walk by the lake. It was a much more enticing option, and she had readily agreed. Their truce had turned into a tentative friendship, with Fitz frequently offering her hot beverages and interesting articles from the _Journal of the Royal Society for Witchcraft_ , and Jemma providing him with broken cauldrons and vials and pestles to charm back to how they belonged. He always did so with a smirk, making them better than before and showing off as much as she remembered from when they had been students. He certainly knew how to handle his wand, Jemma thought to herself, her neck feeling slightly warm, as she remembered his restoration of a glass stopper just that afternoon.

The tea must be hotter than she thought.

“That’s all? ‘Very interesting?’”

Jemma shook her head, closing her eyes. “Sorry, I got distracted. But yes, very interesting. I studied with Anastasia Weaver for three years. She is the most skilled potions brewer living today.”

“Did you ever get out of the lab?” Fitz asked, smiling.

Jemma watched as he took a sip of his own drink. His other hand was pushed inside the pocket of his cloak and his scarf was wrapped tightly around his neck. The chilly breeze off the lake warned of snow as it ruffled his hair and turned his cheeks pink, despite the Fireball he had charmed to follow them.

“ _Yes_ ,” Jemma said, pretending to take offense at his teasing. “I did lots of…other things.”

“What did you do after you left?”

“Traveled some more,” Jemma told him. “Then after that, I worked for an independent potions company in Manchester, brewing medicines and doing research. I considered opening my own lab before the owl came from Coulson.”

Fitz nodded. “Did you miss your family? I felt like I was always going back and forth between London and Glasgow to see my mum when I worked for Stark.”

Jemma stared ahead for a moment. “Not – well, that is – I haven’t been particularly close to my family, at least not since…”

She felt Fitz’s eyes on her. Finally, he asked, “Since when?”

“The Hat put me in Slytherin,” she said chipperly. He continued to look at her, and Jemma sighed. “They’re all Ravenclaw. Rumor has it we’re even distantly related to Rowena.”

Fitz hummed pensively. He turned away from their path along the shore, and went to sit on the ground by an old tree a few feet away. Jemma joined him, lowering herself carefully so she didn’t spill the remainder of her tea. In the distance, she could see a few hardy students braving the cold themselves. 

“Why did the Hat put you in Slytherin?” he asked, sounded hesitant. A glance suggested he understood this was a strange topic for them, considering recent events. But they had agreed to try, so Jemma felt she should be as brave answering as he was to ask. 

“I don’t know. It didn’t say anything to me.”

Fitz’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Nothing?”

Jemma nodded. 

He seemed speechless. Finally, he said, “That must have been a boring seventeen minutes.”

She burst into laughter, losing her balance slightly and falling against his shoulder. She pushed off him to sit upright again, blushing at the feel of his chest beneath her hand. 

“It was.”

Fitz watched her for a moment, a small smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. “I think it made the right choice,” he finally said, making Jemma feel a little nervous about his meaning until he added, “You’re far too interesting for Ravenclaw.”

Jemma held his gaze, feeling her own smile grow. Her nervousness didn’t fade so much as change. Her breath puffed out in sharp bursts in the space between them, which seemed much smaller than she’d realized. 

“We should go back in soon,” she blurted. “My hands are freezing.”

Fitz unexpectedly reached out and wrapped his hand around hers. “Little ice buckets, aren’t they?” he observed, pulling her hand closer and huffing a warm breath onto her fingers. He then climbed to his feet and used their clasped hands to pull her to her own. To her rather curious disappointment, he then dropped her hand. 

“Let’s go in,” he agreed. “It’s almost time for dinner.”

Jemma shook her head. “Always thinking about food. You’d probably teach in the kitchens, if you could.”

“Why do you think the Hat put me in Hufflepuff?”

Jemma laughed, but she didn’t believe him. There were a lot of other qualities that the Hat would have recognized that were more important.

**

Skye adjusted her prefect badge, making sure it was displayed prominently as she went on duty. She would be monitoring students in the Great Hall. It was one of those dead weeks, when final exams were still too far away to worry about, so most people were ignoring their schoolwork in favor of wizard’s chess and other time-wasting activities. The topic of conversation at most tables seemed to be the upcoming dueling lessons that had just been announced.

Skye’s favorite part of the yearly mini-lessons were the demonstrations from the professors. She couldn’t really believe that she and her classmates would someday be as skilled as their instructors were. Last year, Professor Morse had even made Professor Hunter forget who he was for two hours, after he told the assembled students that when she had been their age, Professor Morse’s favorite dueling move was to kick her opponent in the “Golden Snitch,” and that they should ask someone named Sunil Bakshi for more details. 

Skye smiled at the memory as she waved at Lincoln and Joey, two Ravenclaws in her year, and made her way down the aisle slowly. She was knocked out of her own thoughts by a nearby conversation.

“I suspect there will be a demonstration duel between Fitz and Daniels,” a Slytherin girl was saying. Skye recognized her easily – Callie was a known gossip. “Except it will be very real.”

“Why do you think that?” her Gryffindor study partner asked, her voice little over a whisper.

“You haven’t noticed?” Callie asked, somewhat condescendingly. “They’re both into Professor Simmons. It’s so obvious how they’re chasing after her.”

“Which one does she like?”

Callie shrugged. “She’s playing around with both of them, in my opinion. She’ll probably eventually go for Professor Daniels, though; at least he’s not a Hufflepuff nerd.”

“Hey!” Skye objected loudly. She immediately blushed. She probably shouldn’t have been eavesdropping but… well, now she had to commit. “You’ve earned a detention.”

“For what?” Callie demanded. 

“Gossiping. And talking back will make it another one.”

Callie opened her mouth to complain, and then closed it again when Skye raised her eyebrows in challenge. 

Skye hurried away, thinking furiously. Was there any truth to it, she wondered. She hadn’t really seen them interact herself, not since the Hogwarts Express. Oh, certainly, in the halls occasionally and during meals in the Great Hall, but…Professor Fitz _had_ asked Skye to deliver the bottle of butterbeer after the Hogsmeade weekend. He had told her it was payment for a friendly bet, but Skye wondered now if there was more to it than that. 

Professor Fitz was great, and Professor Simmons was, somewhat surprisingly, one of her favorites as well. It’d actually be pretty awesome if they fell in love. Skye nodded in determination. She’d play matchmaker as best as she could. And she certainly wouldn’t tolerate any other students talking about them behind their backs, especially any who thought that Professor Simmons would prefer someone like Professor Daniels over Professor Fitz!

**

Walking out of the Great Hall with one package tucked under her arm, Jemma opened the other she had received that morning from a beautiful Great Grey Owl. The tentacles inside looked disgusting, but would work excellently for the seventh-years’ Felix Felicis lesson after the break. That meant the other package was the Christmas present she had ordered for Fitz – a book on famous Scottish Wizards in history. She’d pair it with some chocolate from Honeydukes and –

“Do you need any help carrying that, Professor Simmons?”

Jemma turned and smiled graciously at Skye. “No, thank you, Skye. How are you today?”

“Excited about the dueling lessons tonight!” 

Jemma chuckled. Skye wasn’t the only one – students had been talking about the lessons since they were announced. Apparently, the opportunity to magically spar with their classmates outside of the carefully controlled Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons Bobbi gave them was too good to pass up. And, of course, as Jemma remembered from her own days at Hogwarts, there were also thrilling demonstrations from the faculty that showed all the clever spells the students still had to learn. She realized now, though, that the dueling lessons were much more stressful for the faculty than students ever appreciated.

“Thank you for reminding me, Skye. I told Madam Rodriguez I would whip up some more healing potions for her today.”

Skye’s eyes widened at the implication, but then she shook her head quickly, as if she didn’t want to be distracted from something.

“Are you going to demonstrate? Or do you know who is?”

“Oh, Professor Morse, I imagine. I haven’t really thought about it. I doubt that I – ”

“Because some people think Professors Fitz and Daniels will duel,” Skye interrupted. She sounded somewhat odd, and Jemma’s brow furrowed.

“I haven’t heard that,” she finally replied. 

“Some – some people think that – that it’s not all for – that they’re really – who do you think would win?” Skye continued in a breathless rush. “Who would you _want_ to win?”

Jemma still didn’t know quite what Skye was talking about, but if the way her pulse picked up and the little tingles throughout her body meant anything, she was at risk of interpreting student gossip in very silly ways. Jemma breathed out, then tried to reach up to fix her hair only to fumble and nearly drop the packages she had forgotten. This speculation felt very inappropriate, and certainly not something she should indulge a student in. Even if – even if Fitz and Will _did_ demonstrate dueling for the students, that didn’t mean that they were fighting over anything or – or _anyone_.

“What class do you have first this morning?” Jemma asked.

“History of Magic,” Skye replied. At Jemma’s pointed eyebrow raise, Skye sighed, nodded, and turned to head in the correct direction. 

Jemma carried on herself, firmly telling herself to focus on her responsibilities for the day. She couldn’t deny though, that she was suddenly much more excited about what might happen that evening.


	6. Chapter 6

Considering all her worry – and OK, maybe a little bit of fantasy – over the gossip Skye had hinted at, it was surprising, to say the least, that the second faculty duel (after Hunter was soundly defeated by Bobbi) was between Fitz and…Jemma, herself. Will hadn’t even arrived yet, and Jemma wondered if he even would. In the meantime, however, between cajoling from students and Fitz’s own harmless attempts to wind her up, Jemma had given in. She was determined to prove that, even if dueling required far, _far_ more skill at charms than potions, she could still hold her own over Leopold Fitz. She had gotten N.E.W.T.s in _all_ of her courses, after all. 

She held her wand in front of her, gave a small bow, and then lifted it, prepared to attack. Fitz was much quicker, but still she blocked his Petrificus Totalus easily. She sent a freezing curse back at him, which he followed up with a Jelly Legs Curse that made her wobble around and students shriek with laughter. That gave her an idea, and her next move was a giggling charm. 

“Is that the best you can do?” he asked around his uncontrollable snickering. 

With a deceptive flick of his wrist, his next attack surprised her, knocking her off her feet. For a moment, he looked concerned and he took a step closer, stopping only when Jemma pushed her sleeves up and stood again. If that’s the way he wanted to play it… she swooped her wand down, making him gasp for air as the oxygen around him briefly flowed away. It was at that moment that Will entered. Jemma glanced over at the sound of the door opening, distracted for only – she yelped at the itchy hives forming on her neck. 

She turned to Fitz, confused by his expression – anger? Something else? Forget about any secret wish she might have had to see him take on Will and what that might have implied. He didn’t even seem to notice or care that the man Jemma was dating had entered the room. He was much more concerned with beating her. Clearly, they weren’t becoming as friendly as she thought if he – she moaned before clamping her jaw down hard. The stinging charm covered her body in tiny, hot-cold pinpricks, almost more pleasurable than painful. In a somewhat confused haze, Jemma swished her wand up, and Fitz went flying off the dais and into the far wall with a crunch. She stared in surprise and immediate regret as he collapsed to the ground unconscious, and Bobbi and Mack ran over to check on him. The students simply cheered.

**

Soft music drifted from Madam Rodriguez’s office, just barely covering the sounds of Jemma’s footfalls. She walked quickly to the bed concealed by a curtain in the far corner of the hospital ward, not wanting to be reprimanded for being there so late at night. She had tried to sleep but hadn’t been able to ignore her worry for Fitz. She hadn’t meant to – Bobbi said he –

As soon as she slipped through the curtain, she froze. With a sigh, she sat in the chair next to his bed and looked him over. A bandage was wrapped around his head, and his arm was in a sling as the broken bones magically healed. Jemma saw the anaesthetic potion she had personally created on the bedside table and took some comfort from the knowledge that he was feeling very little pain because of it. 

She leaned forward to brush his hair off her forehead, preparing herself to leave him again and let him sleep. And then his eyes slowly blinked open. They were as blue as ever, although much darker in the dim light, but they were far from lucid.

“Jemma,” he whispered. Jemma realized, with a note of surprise, that that was the first time he’d ever called her by her given name. 

“Shh,” she responded. “Go to sleep.”

“My arm is broke,” he told her ungrammatically. “Same place as second year, ‘member?” 

“I know. I know. I’m…sorry.”

“Why?” he seemed utterly, adorably confused.

“Because – because it’s my fault.”

“Is it?” The surprise was sweet. He seemed almost like he was ready to argue against her guilt, until he remembered. “Duel.”

“Yes, and I’m so sorry, Fitz. I shouldn’t have – ”

“I woulda won,” he declared. She didn’t quite believe him, but didn’t feel like disagreeing with him when he was in this state. “But Daniels came in, and I…”

He trailed off, pouting. Jemma shifted in her seat, her brow furrowing. “I didn’t realize you noticed.”

“You did,” he said petulantly. 

Jemma took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Fitz,” she said, somewhat calculating. Perhaps his being drugged wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. She certainly could use the opportunity to get some answers. She was nothing if not a Slytherin, after all. “Why does he bother you?”

Fitz harrumphed and looked away. After a long moment of silence, he finally said a stubborn and vague, “’Cause.” 

“Because why?”

“’Cause you like him.”

A strange sensation went through Jemma, almost like she had been hit with the stinging curse again. She blinked, feeling the blush rise on her neck and chest and cheeks. 

“Fitz,” she whispered. He turned to look at her, even more glassy-eyed. She knew her potion was working as it should, taking the feedback from his body and brain and increasing the magic of the active ingredients to pull him back under. Perhaps it was because of that that she felt brave enough to continue. “I don’t like him all that much,” she confessed, “and I like you a lot more.”

His lips separated in shock, and she found herself unstoppably drawn to them. Jemma bent down, pressing her mouth to his in a languid kiss. She felt him move underneath her, his good arm lifting up so he could place his hand on the back of her head. Jemma deepened the kiss with a moan, slipping her tongue inside his mouth and – and his hand fell off her. Jemma sat up at the thumping noise, only to see that the potion had won at last. Fitz was sound asleep. 

She pressed two fingers to her lips, savoring the wet, tingling feel of them. With a suppressed giggle, she snuck out of the hospital ward again before Madam Rodriguez spotted her.

**

Skye lingered in the classroom, slowly packing up her book and wand as she waited for the others to leave the room. And then she made her way up to the front desk, where Headmaster Coulson was carefully organizing the products of their lessons for Professor Fitz to mark later.

“It was nice to have you teach again,” Skye said, “even if not for the best reason.”

Coulson smiled, placing one hand on her shoulder as he guided her out of the room. “Don’t get used to it. Professor Fitz should be up and about by this evening. Madam Rodriguez is an…extraordinarily fast healer.”

“I know. I’m going there now for – well, you know.”

“And you’re keeping those visits to yourself, like I suggested?”

“Yes, sir. I haven’t even told Professor Fitz, even though he’s my Head of House now.”

“Good. I think it’s best to keep it that way for now.”

Skye nodded, feeling conflicted. She thought that Professor Fitz, and maybe even Professor Simmons could be trusted. They might even be able to help her and Professor Coulson figure out the best way for her to develop and control these new powers. She didn’t think regular doses of Skele-Gro to keep her arms together was a long-term solution. But she’d follow Coulson’s guidance – for now. 

“How is your year going otherwise? Are you ready for exams?”

“Yes! This year has been the hardest yet, but I’m learning so much,” Skye enthused. She loved magic more and more every single day. She still remembered the joy that had filled her when she got her letter and realized that not only was she going to be leaving the orphanage, but there was a whole world out there, waiting to accept her as one of their own. “Charms is still my favorite, but I also really love Potions with Professor Simmons, and Transfiguration, of course, and Defense and Magical Creatures and – ”

“And every class?” Coulson concluded with a laugh.

Skye shrugged. “Maybe not Divination. Professor Raina is kinda weird.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you say that.”

**

His arm was completely healed, with Madam Rodriguez’s seal of approval, but it still felt somewhat tender so he was careful as he reached out for the serving dishes and loaded his dinner plate. The castle elves had outdone themselves, and he was strangely touched to see some of his favorite foods appearing on the table in front of him. He wondered if it was intentional.

He knew exactly when Simmons walked into the Great Hall. He could sense her pause, look at him, then continue walking. When she was close enough, he glanced up and smiled. He hoped to convey that he harbored no hard feelings and he hoped she didn’t feel guilty – or, for that matter, wasn’t mad at him for some of the spells he had thrown during their duel. It was all in good fun, and the end had been an accident. 

She smiled back at him, and gave him a little wave before she seemed to feel self-conscious. She dropped her arm, surreptitiously looking around and then hurrying up to the faculty table at the head of the room. 

He didn’t know why she was embarrassed. _He_ was the one who had inappropriately dreamt of her, after all. He woke up that morning with a vivid memory of her visiting him in the night and – and – and kissing him. Well, not a _memory_ , of course, but the dream had been very realistic. And while it made him finally admit to himself that he was drawn to her as way much more than a friend, and probably had been for a long time, he had no intention of telling her about it or letting it affect their relationship in any way. They had only just managed to become friends, after all. 

Fitz watched out of the corner of his eye as Simmons sat down, then leaned forward to look past Daniels (much to Fitz’s petty satisfaction), Coulson, and Mack to focus on Fitz himself.

“I hope your arm is doing well, Professor Fitz,” she said, formally but with a hint of warmth.

“Just fine, thank you,” he replied, trying to match her tone. “And I look forward to our rematch next year.”

Simmons laughed, and Fitz couldn’t hide his own grin. Her eyes twinkled as they looked at each other, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. Fitz breathed out shakily, suddenly thrown back to his dream. It was all he could do to tear his eyes away and strike up a conversation with Mack instead. For a moment, it seemed like Simmons was disappointed, but then she simply turned to talk to Hunter and Bobbi.

**

Jemma perhaps should have been using her free hour to prepare for the final exams that would begin the next day. But it had been ten days since the duel, ten days since she’d kissed Fitz, ten days of silence from him.

Oh, not _silence_ , of course. They talked as frequently as ever, but Jemma had slowly given up hope that he’d ever bring up the moment between them in the hospital ward. She could raise the topic herself, but damn it, hadn’t she done enough? Wasn’t the Quaffle in his end now? And yet…

She paced up and down the hallway. It was far too cold to go outside, or even spend much time in the corridors away from the fires that burned constantly in the winter. She had chosen a random seventh-floor hallway, far enough away from classrooms not to disturb anyone who might be working. And she ignored the portraits that observed her curiously, traveling between frames and even tapestries to follow her. 

Jemma sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Oh, she was being ridiculous. It was obvious, wasn’t it? He was trying to tell her he wasn’t interested without hurting her feelings. They could just be friends, like they had started to be. 

Although really, it wasn’t the nicest way to handle the situation, wasn’t it?

“Some friend,” she muttered.

She approached the end of the hall and was just about to turn and pace in the opposite direction again, when someone unexpectedly rounded the corner and nearly ran into her. At the last possible moment, Jemma stepped back and he skipped to the side and stumbled slightly before he caught himself. 

Speak of the devil.

Fitz laughed. “Third time’s the charm, I guess.”

“Hmm? What?”

Fitz gestured awkwardly between them. “Um…we didn’t actually collide this time?”

“Oh,” Jemma replied, with a small, forced laugh. “Right.” 

There was a beat of silence then. Jemma wondered if it felt as agonizing to him as it did to her. Fitz’s head moved in a circle as he looked around instead of at her, so she suspected it did.

“Ready for exams?” he asked, voice somewhat fast. 

“Mmm. Hard to believe we’ve been here a full term already.”

“Absolutely!”

They stared at each other some more. Jemma’s annoyance started to come back. She’d rather have one uncomfortable, honest conversation and be done with it, but of course he wouldn’t want that. He avoided talking to her for _seven years_ as a student, after all. 

“Unbelievable,” Jemma muttered to herself.

“Pardon?” Fitz asked, his eyebrows raising curiously. 

She opened her mouth, prepared to yell, but just then heard the sound of at least three students approaching. Ugh, the last thing she needed – to be the subject of more gossip. Jemma grabbed Fitz by the robes and pulled. He squawked in response, tripping forward two or three steps and then regaining his balance.

“Simmons? Simmons, what – ?”

She spotted the door halfway down the corridor – and how had she missed that during her earlier pacing? – and tested the knob. Thankfully, it was unlocked. Jemma opened the door, seeing a small closet, and tugged Fitz inside. She closed the door behind them. 

“Umm…” 

She ignored Fitz as she reached into her robes and pulled out her wand. “Lumos,” she whispered. 

The closet was smaller than she’d realized, and Fitz was immediately in front of her. Half a step closer, and their bodies would be flush against each other. She glanced around, curious when she saw nothing but a chest of drawers about waist height along the wall next to the door, and some blankets and pillows on the floor. She had been expecting a mop closet, not a – she was entirely unclear what the purpose of the room was, actually. 

Not that it mattered. She had needed a private place to speak with Fitz, and this worked perfectly. 

“It’s been _ten_ days, and you haven’t said a word,” she reminded him. 

“About…? Oh! Simmons, don’t worry, I – that is, I kind of figured you would – but it’s OK; I’m not mad.”

“Oh, really? You’re not _mad_ ,” Jemma responded, annoyed at the implication that he had apparently just been _waiting_ for her to throw herself at him. It seems she was _obvious_ , and yet he still saw no reason to discuss the matter. 

“Well, no, I know you didn’t mean to. Besides, I had fun, mostly.”

“Mostly? _Mostly_?” Which part _hadn’t_ been fun, she wondered? Where had she fallen _short_ , by his discerning standards? Why – she’d show him! When Jemma Simmons set her mind to something, she _excelled_ at it. It wasn’t her fault he had been drugged to the – well, yes, OK, it sort of was her fault. So, it was only fair that she demonstrated what she was capable of when he was able to appreciate it. 

It seemed like a pretty reasonable conclusion, or at least enough of a justification. So, Jemma took that half a step and closed the distance between them. Her wand fell to the floor as she wrapped her arms around his neck, the spell ending and plunging the room into darkness. Fitz managed a brief sound of confusion before it was muffled by her mouth. 

Almost immediately, he reacted. His hands came to her waist, and he pulled her closer. He deepened the kiss, turning his head to the side so their mouths could move together easier. Jemma realized how much more enjoyable this was when he was a full participant. His tongue stroked against hers, and she moaned in pleasure. 

The sound was followed by a gasp of surprise when he turned them around and maneuvered her closer to the chest, lifting her up on top of it. She spared a crazed thought of gratitude that it was conveniently just the right height, before wrapping her legs around his waist. Fitz leaned closer, his hands wandering over her body until they ended up somewhere between her thighs and arse. He tugged her closer, and she felt something that was too thick to be his wand and too solid to simply be bunched-up robes.

With a groan, Jemma broke the kiss, bending forward to suck and nip at his neck as she buried her hands into his hair. 

“Simmons,” he breathed out, then repeated louder, firmer, “Simmons, we – what – this – ”

Oh, _now_ he wanted to talk, Jemma thought with a perhaps inappropriate urge to laugh. But before she could respond, a ringing sound broke through her overwhelming lust. It took her a second to realize what exactly – _crap_. 

Jemma pushed him away hurriedly, just far enough so she could jump to the ground. She adjusted her robes, ran her hand through her hair, and then crouched, her arms moving in wide sweeps until she found her wand. 

“Simmons,” Fitz said again, breathless yet urgent.

But there was no time. Her class began in five minutes, and it took seven to get to the dungeons from there. She ran out of the room without even a backwards glance, casting grooming spells on herself.

**

Fitz stood immobile and stunned for a few minutes. He wasn’t entirely sure _why_ , but Jemma Simmons had just snogged him senseless and then ran out of the room. The best he could figure was she – well, no, he really couldn’t begin to explain it. But her leaving so quickly – Fitz feared that she regretted it and couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

That kiss had been a thousand times better than the one in his dreams. He pressed the heel of his palm against his crotch, trying to calm himself and wondering if he shouldn’t take advantage of the pillows and the privacy and – where had that bottle of lotion come from? 

Fitz sighed, scratching at his eyebrow with his other hand. He wondered if his brain had been damaged in the duel as well, because hallucinations might be the only thing that made sense at this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, I have to go on hiatus for at least a week, maybe closer to two. Seems like a perfect place to have a little cliffhanger though! :D


	7. Chapter 7

Fitz hid his smile as Joey Gutierrez groaned and face-planted on the table. It always amused him to watch Ravenclaws struggle with their work. Not because he was mean and he enjoyed the schadenfreude or anything, but because it was usually some minor problem on a spell _at least_ a year above their grade level. In this case, it was turning metal to liquid, an exercise that wouldn’t even show up on the Transfiguration exam he would take the next day.

“I can’t do it,” Joey mumbled.

“Yes, you can,” Fitz encouraged him quietly, so as not to interrupt the rest of the students frantically studying in the Great Hall the penultimate evening of exams week. He glanced at the hourglass in the corner. “Unfortunately, I don’t think it’s going to be this term, but perseverance is nine-tenths of any art. Reread the theory in the book, practice visualizing the molecules over the holiday, and try again when you get back.”

Joey nodded without lifting his head, and Fitz stepped away to address the whole room, announcing that they needed to pack up soon and return to their rooms for the evening. He smiled to himself as he saw the quills start to move even faster. The final few minutes flew by and Fitz swished his wand in the air, making all the scrolls roll up in front of the anguished eyes of the students who had just been scribbling the last of their notes. 

“Good luck on your exams, and then enjoy your breaks,” he said in a loud voice over the din of the students gathering their belongings.

When the last student had left, Fitz began to stroll out of the Great Hall himself. He had one more exam to administer – his own sixth-years in the afternoon – and then he too would be free to leave for the holiday. He’d planned to save his marking for the train ride and simply enjoy the festive feast. But his excitement for the break, at its peak only a few days ago, had started to wane. He found he wasn’t ready to leave yet, not when – 

When he wanted to spend as much time as possible with the woman suddenly standing in front of him. Fitz grinned in welcome, flashing back to the first time they had seen each other that year, and even farther back to their own time in school. How things had changed since then…

“Hello, Professor Fitz,” Simmons said, wringing her hands in front of her.

He blinked in confusion at her tone and at the unusually formal address. Perhaps she was afraid students would overhear a more personal interaction. Fitz stepped closer, smiling until she took a step back.

“Professor Simmons,” he replied warily. Perhaps the conclusion he had come to, after he finally convinced himself the snog had really happened, had been wrong. Perhaps they weren’t becoming something more than friends. 

“I wanted – I wanted to apologize for…you know,” she said in something of a rush. “It was completely unprofessional and I don’t know what I was thinking. It won’t happen again, and I hope we can still be friends.”

The longer she spoke, the paler and sicker Fitz felt. Finally, he realized she was waiting for an answer. He nodded, rather than trusting his voice. It hadn’t felt wrong to him, but he – well, he wasn’t very experienced in these types of things. Maybe it happened all the time, two people trying to end a bitter rivalry and accidentally overcorrecting. 

“Definitely a mistake,” he managed to say, sounding almost normal. He forced a smile. “Of course, we can still be friends.”

Simmons exhaled, seemingly in relief. She gave him a shaky smile in return. “Good. Because you’re – you’re my best friend, Fitz.”

**

Jemma hadn’t slept all week, instead tossing and turning as she relived the minutes in the closet and recriminated herself for them. How could she have just thrown herself at him like that? Just because she was a Slytherin didn’t mean she could just take whatever she wanted with no regard for anyone else’s feelings and preferences. Fitz had been trying so hard to let her down easy and what did she do? Accost him. Certainly, a small voice tried to remind her, he had seemed willing, maybe even eager, to reciprocate but was that really – could she really – of course not. Things happened in the heat of the moment that they probably both regretted.

She knew what she had to do, but it still took her until nearly the last possible moment to work up the courage. She imagined the Hat never even remotely considered Gryffindor during its 17-minute silence. 

Fitz would never reproach her for it, she knew. He was too kind, too forgiving. That was only proven when he graciously accepted her apology and confirmed nothing had changed between them. She was reminded why she had such trouble with Hufflepuff friendships sometimes. She was sure she would have preferred it if he just got angry. 

She ate her meal at the holiday feast somewhat listlessly, engaging in an absent-minded conversation with Will. Every once in a while, she caught Fitz looking at her, but his expression was too hard to read. And the worst part was, she still had to talk to him privately one more time. The train left at sunrise the next day, so she’d try to catch him after the feast. 

He lingered over his dessert, talking quietly with Mack, and Jemma almost lost her nerve. Certainly, she could send it to his house via owl. There was no need…

Finally, he stood, shot her one last look and left the table. She waited until he was near the doors to the Great Hall before she took her own leave, not wanting it to seem obvious that she was following him. 

“Fitz!” she called out, when she made it into the corridor. 

He was almost to the stairs that would take him down to the kitchens and to the Hufflepuff rooms. She watched as he came to a standstill, hesitated for a moment, then turned. 

“Yeah?” 

“I – I wanted to give you your Christmas present,” she said quickly, reaching into her purse and groping around until she found the wrapped parcel deep down inside it. It was moments like this that she was both grateful and annoyed that she bewitched it to hold so much. 

“Here,” she finally said, presenting it with a flourish that made her inwardly cringe with awkwardness.

“I don’t – I don’t have yours on me,” he said apologetically. 

Jemma waved a hand to dismiss his concerns. He bent his head, tearing the paper quickly to reveal the book and chocolate bar. With a small smile, he read the title. 

“Ta, Simmons,” he murmured. 

Before she could reply, there was a sound of a few students laughing and cheering. They both turned to face the children, who had just entered the hall. 

“Look up!” one shouted. 

Almost simultaneously, they followed the instructions. Jemma immediately groaned deep inside herself. Professor Blake’s herbology class had concluded the semester by charming mistletoe to float around the castle, apparently for the sole purpose of humiliating unsuspecting people. Jemma inhaled shakily, making eye contact with Fitz again. 

He was blushing a lovely shade of red and already backing away from her. 

“Happy Christmas, Simmons,” he blurted. “I’ll see you next term.”

And then he was rushing away. With a barely concealed scowl, Jemma turned and headed towards her own House’s Common Room. As she walked past the snickering students, she shook her head. 

“Ten points from Hufflepuff,” she said as she passed them. In _her_ day, students would never dream of disrespecting professors like that. 

She was still mortified (and secretly disappointed) the next morning. Fighting the urge to see the train off, she stayed in her rooms and prepared for a long, quiet month at the castle. She would be staying there, feeling no particular need to join her family on holiday in Ibiza. In the late morning, she finally risked moving from her rooms to the Potions dungeon.

There, on her desk, was a messily wrapped gift. She pulled the paper off with a certain degree of hesitation, then gasped. The ingredients were top-notch and all impossible to find fresh in Europe this time of year. She had been complaining about it to Fitz only a week or two ago, wondering how she could ever hope to continue her research in between teaching if she couldn’t gain access to specialty supplies. He must have sent owls to every Potions master around the world. 

She sent one of her own that afternoon, thanking him for the thoughtful gift. It was truly wonderful to have such a best friend.

**

“Leo, dear, there’s an owl at the window.”

Fitz looked up from where he was seated on the den floor, fixing his mum’s DVD player and grumbling quietly to himself about how she never let him use magic at home. He was well into adulthood now, but she had latched onto the underage restrictions and never relaxed them as a way to ensure he maintained a sense of belonging in her world.

He supposed since she made the effort to be a part of his world as much as possible, it was only fair. 

He glanced at where she was sitting and shot her a smile as he stood and walked over. “Maybe it’s for you,” he suggested, grunting slightly as he pushed open the window.

She scoffed. “All of _my_ friends use email, and you’re here, so.”

The barn owl had a Hogwarts headpiece and perched formally, almost regally. Fitz carefully opened the tube and removed the scroll inside. He thanked the owl, which flew off, so Fitz assumed no response was expected. 

For some reason, when he recognized the handwriting, he felt a sudden urge to walk briskly in a circle around the house. And yet, he remained completely still. 

“Leo, close the window; it’s December.”

He jumped, moving quickly to do so. 

“Who’s the letter from?” his mum asked then, the tone of her voice suspiciously knowing.

“No – no one,” he replied, trying to sound natural and calm. “Just, ah, the potions master at school.”

“Oh, Professor Simmons?”

He gaped at her, taking a moment to gather his wits. “How did you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned her in your letters once or _twice_ , dear,” she reminded him pointedly. He felt even more surprised when she added under her breath, “Since your first year of school.” 

“I don’t…I wouldn’t… _Mum_.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Not like what, sweetheart?” she asked, feigning innocence. She was a cruel, heartless woman, his mother.

“Not like whatever you’re implying. She’s – she’s dating another professor.” 

Fitz tried not to scowl as he remembered the way Simmons had focused all her attention at the end of term feast on Daniels. Apparently, _that_ wasn’t unprofessional. 

“I’m just happy you have a friend. Now, go read your letter.”

He left the room, as calmly and maturely as possible. He just wanted some privacy, that’s all, a little peace and quiet so he could read a _friendly_ piece of correspondence from his _colleague_. He didn’t need any sort of commentary from his own mother. And he supposed his exit would have made more of a statement if he hadn’t nearly tripped over the cord of the DVD player on his way out.

If he was as disappointed as he was pleased that the letter only contained her effusive gratitude and excitement as she described the research she was already planning, then no one needed to know.

**

On Christmas Eve, the small group of students and faculty remaining at the castle gathered around only one table in the Great Hall. The feast, although smaller than usual meals, was still magnificently prepared. Jemma sat at one end of the table, across from Headmaster Coulson, and she smiled as she watched Professor Mackenzie and Madam Rodriguez pull apart a cracker. Skye chatted quietly with a third-year Hufflepuff, but Jemma couldn’t help but notice her eyes continuously darting to look at Grant Ward at the far end of the table.

Overall, though, the dinner was pleasantly uneventful, and they soon parted ways. Jemma spent the rest of the evening preparing classes for the following term. It was late – after midnight – before she realized the time due to her stomach reminding her it had been hours since dinner. 

She walked quietly and quickly down the hall, rubbing her arms and regretting not throwing on a sweater before leaving her cozy, fire-warmed room. She’d grab something quick from the kitchens, avoiding the elves if possible, as they’d load her up with all the leftovers they could. She was almost there, passing the barrels that she knew concealed the entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room, which made her think fondly and confusedly of Fitz. 

She wondered how his holiday was going. She wondered if he was enjoying his time with his mum. She wondered if he received her thank you letter and if – 

Jemma threw an arm out in surprise, catching her balance awkwardly as the whole castle seemed to shake around her. She looked around frantically, trying to figure out what was happening, only to catch sight of the barrels collapsing. She dodged out of the way as they rolled past her, glancing up to see the tunnel she had just been thinking about it. 

And with nothing blocking it, she could easily hear the screams and sobs from within.

Without thinking, Jemma ran, ducking slightly, through the tunnel, across the common room, and into the bedroom. There, thrashing around in her sleep, was Skye. Jemma rushed to the bed, landing on it awkwardly as she reached out for Skye’s shoulders. She shook her, calling out her name. 

Skye woke with a start – and the tremors stopped. 

“Professor Simmons?” Skye asked, her voice raw from her recent shouts. She trembled, rubbing at her arms as if they pained her. “What’s going on? Why are you here?”

“There was – you were – Skye, were _you_ doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Causing the…” Jemma paused, but there really was no other word for it, “earthquake.”

Skye dropped her gaze. After a long moment, she nodded. 

Jemma breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm herself enough to think. Could this be an example of the _powers_? She had never heard of a witch being able to produce such dramatic effects, at least not in her sleep. Coulson _had_ said there were students demonstrating abilities, and – well…

Skye winced, rubbing at her arms again.

“Tell me everything,” Jemma requested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, finally! So, I hope to post much more regularly going forward, although it won't be as frequently as before this little hiatus because (sigh) the school year is starting soon and I have to go back to work.


	8. Chapter 8

Fitz spontaneously decided to return to Hogwarts several days before the students, planning to get settled and ready for the new term without the disruption and noise of hundreds of children. He apparated into Hogsmeade and walked the remaining distance, and he was thoroughly frozen by the time he stepped into the Entrance Hall.

So, of course, Simmons was right there, crossing the Great Hall. She came to a sudden halt, staring at his red cheeks and running nose. He felt very self-conscious and more than a little nervous, and she appeared to be equally thrown. He assumed it was only because she hadn’t been expecting him. He searched for something to say in greeting, but she beat him to it.

“Come on,” she ordered, starting to walk again. “Pepper-Up.”

“Huh?” Fitz asked, even as he followed without protest. 

“You’re chilled to the bone.”

Fitz wanted to protest that he was fine, perhaps because he was apprehensive about being alone with her or perhaps because he didn’t want her to think he was so weak he couldn’t even handle cold temperature. But he found it difficult to say no to her.

So, as soon as they entered the Potions dungeon, he sat in the seat she pointed at and watched as she gathered up ingredients and poured them into a cauldron on a low simmer. 

“Thank you for the gift,” she suddenly said.

“Uh, yeah. I got your letter,” Fitz replied dumbly.

She shot him a quick, unreadable smile. “How was your Christmas? Is your mum mad you came back early?”

He paused for a second, thinking. Obviously, the break was much-needed and he loved spending time with his mum, but the truth was… “The break was too long. I missed – Hogwarts too much.”

Simmons didn’t look at him again, but her smile grew wider, and more sincerely happy, as she poured some of the potion into a mug.

“Drink this,” she commanded.

Fitz did as instructed, even though he had started to feel illogically warm as they had talked. With a moue of distaste, he gulped down the potion, then breathed out harshly as the heat flooded through him. He felt the steam start to dribble out his ears, and honestly he couldn’t blame Simmons for the slight smirk she gave him because of it.

**

The first day with all the students back had been incredibly hectic, but it was all worth it when Grant Ward – the _Head Boy_ – had pulled her aside and complimented her on how well she had handled her prefect duties as everyone got settled. Skye had stammered her thanks, her pleased embarrassment made even worse when Ward winked and placed a hand briefly on her shoulder.

He was so cute! And so skilled at magic! And he noticed her! Skye felt like she was walking on air as she entered the Great Hall for dinner. 

As a result, it took her too long to realize there was another person at the Head Table. Shamefully, it even took Headmaster Coulson speaking for the woman’s presence to register.

“Students,” Coulson said, “I would like to introduce you to Madam May. She is a representative of the Ministry and will be our guest this term. Her role is to provide additional security against any unforeseen threats, and to monitor students and staff, as well as report on her findings to the head of the Department of Magical Education, Gideon Malick, and Minister Garrett himself. Now, you must continue on as normal; I assure you, you will hardly even realize Madam May is here.”

Skye felt all her happiness draining. She didn’t know completely why, but she felt as if Madam May was looking straight at her. But, she seemed to be the only one concerned about the school’s new resident. Despite some discussion among other students, they quickly returned to talk about their holidays and the classes that would start the next day.

Perhaps the only people who looked equally unsettled were Lincoln, a Ravenclaw sitting almost opposite her a couple tables away, and Madam Rodriguez. Not even Coulson betrayed any alarm, as he conversed pleasantly with Madam May over dessert.

**

When Jemma was summoned to the Headmaster’s office, she felt a moment of panic, wondering what she had done wrong. She had _never_ been called there before, neither as a student when it was Fury’s office nor as a professor now. She grew doubly – triply, even – concerned when she knocked on the door, was granted entrance, and immediately spotted Madam May and Skye seated around the small table in the corner. An empty chair waited for her, and Jemma walked slowly to it, dropping down next to Skye. She glanced at her, noted the girl seemed as alarmed as she felt, and surreptitiously reached under the table to squeeze her hand in reassurance.

“Tea, Professor Simmons?” Headmaster Coulson asked.

He and Skye both had steaming cups in front of them, although May did not, so Jemma nodded. As Coulson poured, Jemma swallowed around the lump of nerves in her throat, and wondered furiously what was happening. 

“Skye tells me you are aware of her…abilities,” Coulson said bluntly. 

Jemma blinked, even as Skye’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Jemma glanced at Madam May, who did not appear to have reacted at all. 

“Skye is a superb student,” Jemma began, hedging her answer, “and has certainly excelled in – ”

“Allow me to interrupt,” Coulson said, lifting a hand. “Before we continue, I must say that despite her affiliation and what may have been…inferred…from my introduction at dinner the other day, Madam May is _not_ here to – enact any of Minister Garrett’s proposed policies against witches or wizards with _powers_ , nor will she put anyone at risk of exposure. She is here at _my_ request, in order to provide additional protection. Prejudices are growing, and I will not have any students put in danger here. But we’ll let Garrett and Malick think otherwise. May is also incredibly good at, shall we say, misdirection.”

Jemma looked at her again, and only received a barely noticeable smile in response. Jemma wanted to ask how Coulson could be so sure, how he could trust her, but…Jemma was slightly afraid of May, to be honest. Coulson seemed to anticipate her question anyway. 

“I have known May since we were students here ourselves. I trust her with all of our lives.”

Skye relaxed slightly, her Hufflepuff nature responding predictably to her former Head of House’s assurances, but Jemma was still skeptical – and a little confused. 

“So…why are we here?”

“Since you are aware of the issue, Skye has finally convinced me to take a more proactive approach regarding her own abilities that may also help us understand _powers_ more generally. If we know what causes them, who gets them, and how they can be controlled if necessary, we may be able to turn the tide of public opinion. That requires study. Professor Simmons, I believe you are the best person to conduct these studies, and if they help Skye deal with the negative side effects, so much the better.”

Jemma focused on Skye, who nodded to show her agreement with the idea. After what Skye had told her on Christmas Eve, haltingly and painfully, Jemma couldn’t blame her for clinging to any hope of improvement. And since Jemma herself was keen to learn as much as she could about the _powers_ , she was willing to agree. 

“On one condition,” she said, “or…suggestion, I suppose. I do not feel comfortable engaging in secretive and potentially dangerous research on – _with_ – a student without the full knowledge of her Head of House. Further, Fitz – Professor Fitz is highly intelligent and a skilled researcher and so would no doubt be very – ”

“I want to tell him,” Skye interrupted. “I’ve wanted to tell him for ages.”

Coulson and May seemed to have a conversation with only their eyes, and then Coulson nodded. “Fine.”

**

Fitz literally could not form words. He stared back and forth between Simmons, who looked back at him earnestly, and a fidgeting Skye, who had just demonstrated her ability to produce earthquake-like vibrations. She had _powers_. All this time, she had been hiding them from him, but now – now she and Coulson and Simmons had decided – no. No, he was not going to experiment on his own student. No. Fitz shook his head.

Simmons turned to Skye and said something quietly. With one final glance at him, Skye left the room. As soon as they were alone, Fitz faced Simmons.

“She’s underage,” he reminded her, “and she is our responsibility. We can’t – ”

“Fitz,” Simmons interrupted, “don’t you see? Don’t you understand what this means? So many people are afraid and prejudiced against witches and wizards just like Skye, because they don’t _know_. None of us know – what causes the _powers_ , what it means to have them, why some people do and others don’t. The best way to combat that fear is to find the answers to those questions.”

Fitz moved closer, switching to the seat just opposite Simmons and leaning forward. “Skye’s safety is more important. We’d be putting her at risk.”

“She’s already at risk, Fitz,” Simmons pointed out. “And she’s in pain and she’s scared. We can’t just sit back and do nothing.”

Fitz exhaled sharply, looking off to the side. “I’ll only do this if – our main concern has to be Skye. Even if it means keeping our findings secret. She can’t ever be found out by people like, well, Garrett. Maybe we can develop some kind of charm to help her learn how to control the powers.”

“Control?” Simmons seemed surprised, or perhaps simply eager. “I was thinking a potion that could suppress them, maybe cure them altogether.”

Fitz faced her again, furrowing his brow. “Cure? There’s nothing – there’s nothing _wrong_ with her, Simmons.”

She shook her head, looking sad. “You haven’t seen the aftereffects that I have, Fitz.”

**

“She scares me, mate,” Hunter observed.

He and Fitz were nearly to the Quidditch pitch for the game between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Considering the long-standing house rivalry, it was bound to be an intense game, and all professors were instructed to be on the lookout for unsportsmanlike behavior among both players and spectators. 

Madam May seemed to be taking that instruction to heart, and she stood on the top row of the stands, arms crossed as she stared out across the crowd. 

Fitz watched her for a moment, then lifted the corner of his mouth, making a slight suction sound to dismiss the comment. “And yet, Bobbi,” he pointed out. 

“She’s far more terrifying than Bob,” Hunter disagreed. “What do you think she’s even looking for?” 

“Hey,” Fitz said, changing the subject, “who do you think is going to win?”

“My heart tells me Gryffindor, but my brain tells me Slytherin.”

Fitz sighed.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just Slytherin’s catching up in house points. They don’t need any more gains.”

“I could be easily persuaded to ref the game in favor of Gryffindor,” Hunter suggested.

Fitz gaped at him, appalled at the suggestion.

“Or not,” Hunter concluded.

Later, after the game, Fitz wished he could have regretted not agreeing to the sabotage. But as the Slytherin section of the stands cheered loudly, Fitz turned to meet Simmons' eyes across the row of faculty. She smiled smugly back at him, waving five fingers to indicate the number of earned points. All Fitz wanted to do was hold those fingers between his hands, certain they were chilled in the winter air. All he could think about was what exactly she’d make him do if Hufflepuff lost the Cup. 

He imagined he’d do just about anything she wanted.


	9. Chapter 9

The level of excitement in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was off the charts, and the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students all seemed anxious as they talked amongst themselves. Fitz hid his smile, sadly knowing that the majority of them would be unable to cast the charm. Indeed, they’d be lucky if any of them managed a noncorporeal form. But Bobbi promised them they’d be able to try if enough students received top marks on their final exams the previous term, and Fitz had agreed to help out with the exceptionally difficult lesson. 

He knew the Slytherin and Gryffindor fifth-year classes were seething with jealousy. Gryffindors, of course, felt that Professor Morse’s house loyalty should extend to them, regardless of academic performance. But Simmons had just told her complaining students that they should have done better on their exams then. She and Fitz had laughed rather inappropriately as she described their outrage at her response. 

“Would you care to demonstrate, Professor Fitz?”

He nodded, smiled at the students in anticipation, then closed his eyes. In the years since he’d mastered the charm, he always had any number of truly happy memories to draw on – getting his letter to Hogwarts, seeing his mum for the first time since he’d boarded Hogwarts Express, receiving personal praise from Tony Stark himself, to name just a few examples. But none of them seemed quite right just then, none of them filled him with the same sort of warmth and bliss he knew was necessary to cast an effective Patronus. 

In fact, his mind wandered in directions that probably should have been expected, if he had allowed himself to think about it – Simmons kissing him in the small closet, Simmons talking as she walked beside him along the lake, Simmons telling him they should finally be friends after so many wasted years. Fitz inhaled deeply through his nose, opened his eyes slowly, and let his wand move in the familiar pattern.

“Expecto patronum,” he declared, and a powerful blue figure streamed from the tip of his wand. 

The room filled with oohs and ahhs and laughter as the titi monkey cavorted around. But those responses were nothing compared to the gasps and a few shrieks when Bobbi cast her own Patronus – an alligator. But two hours later, those were still the only two Patronus charms successfully produced. He and Bobbi had walked around the room, adjusting stances, demonstrating proper wand motion, encouraging students to try different memories, and so on, to no avail. Only Skye had managed a small wisp that seemed to waver between a chipmunk and an elephant before evaporating. 

At the end of the class, Bobbi announced their lesson plans for next time – back to regularly scheduled material that earned disappointed groans, and Fitz congratulated them all on their hard work, reassuring them that the spell was truly advanced and they should not be discouraged. Then he took his own leave, turning towards his classroom.

**

“Why a titi monkey?” Simmons wondered. She sat very close next to Fitz, maybe a little too distractingly close for him, smiling lightly at the primate’s antics.

Fitz shrugged, flicking his wand to end the spell. “I love monkeys.”

“Fine, but why a _titi_ monkey.”

“I like titties,” Fitz replied, snorting, before immediately blushing. He forgot for a moment that the response he always gave the boys in his year was not quite appropriate for Simmons. 

“Ugh, Fitz,” she said with a sigh.

“Sorry.” He looked at his lap, fighting immature snickers. “Sorry,” he repeated, “that was just the running joke with Donnie and Seth.”

“Truly titans of intellect.”

“Hey! They’re some of my best friends still. Well, Donnie is, anyway. Seth took the rivalry between Stark and Ian Quinn a little too seriously. But anyway, couldn’t tell them that they were always my favorite, could I? I like that tail thing they do and that…that males are good dads, like I hope to be someday,” he said somewhat uncomfortably.

Simmons hummed noncommittally, and Fitz turned to look at her. He randomly remembered how spells protected the girls’ dormitories from boys, and while he was thankful that the same didn’t apply to professors’ private suites, he was perhaps secretly disappointed that there was no reason to worry in cases like this. With a sigh, he looked forward again, sipping from his teacup then leaning his head back against the high back of his chair, only feet from the fireplace glowing softly in her otherwise dark dungeon. 

“What’s yours then?”

“My Patronus?”

“Yes. You _can_ produce one, can’t you?”

“Of course,” she replied primly. “It’s a narwhal.”

“A narwhal? Really? That’s unusual.”

Simmons shrugged. “I first managed one when I was in Russia, and they can be seen there. Perhaps that’s why. Narwhal horns also happen to be extremely useful potion ingredients.”

Fitz nodded sagely. “The unicorns of the sea,” he teased.

**

“Jemma?”

She turned at the sound of her name, faintly annoyed that Will used her given name where students might have heard. But she didn’t slow down or stop, maintaining the quick pace taking her toward the library. There were some books that she needed from the Restricted Section that she hoped would help with figuring out Skye’s powers, and she wanted to have enough time to look through them before her next class. He’d just have to follow her if he wanted to talk.

“Good afternoon, Professor Daniels,” she replied. 

“How are you? We haven’t talked much this term.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” 

Judging by the look he shot her, Jemma realized that was probably not the best response. It had been an honest one, though. Between her classes and research with Fitz, she had little time and less inclination for socializing. 

“Would you – would you like to make up for it next weekend? At Hogsmeade?”

She had completely forgotten another Hogsmeade day had been scheduled. Jemma sighed, blowing a strand of hair off her face. Actually, next weekend would be perfect for preparing ingredients for potions. The seventh-years were doing truly advanced work now and couldn’t waste time on simple chopping and mixing tasks. She figured she could build up a surplus of things that wouldn’t spoil in her free time, and – 

“Jemma?”

“Oh. Sorry, Will. No, I don’t think so.”

He was silent for several steps. Jemma began to make a mental list of the ingredients she wanted to prepare.

“Jemma?”

“What?” she asked, too distracted to control the terseness of her reply.

“You don’t want to – well, see me anymore, do you?” 

Jemma stopped in her tracks, surprised at the question. She hesitated for a moment, running through the conversation in her head and realizing that she probably shouldn’t be surprised. And wondering if she should feel some sort of guilt or regret.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m sorry, Will,” she said. 

He nodded, dropping his gaze. After a moment, he shrugged somewhat self-deprecatingly and held out a hand. Jemma shook it, and after a slight bow, he released her. Jemma briefly watched him as he walked away, then turned and continued to the library.

**

Fitz was alone in his classroom, reviewing lesson plans during his free period. He was thankful for that a moment later, as no one saw him jump and nearly shriek when a piece of paper, folded so the ends could flap like wings, flew into the room. It hovered above his desk for a moment, then fluttered down. Fitz reached out cautiously, unfolding it and relaxing when he recognized Simmons’ handwriting.

_Found some interesting references. Do you have time this weekend to talk them over?_

_JS_

_P.S. A simple volare charm. Do you like it?_

Fitz picked up his quill, adding his response before he could second-guess himself.

_Do you want to go to Hogsmeade together? We could discuss it over a butterbeer._

_An interesting charm, but not as efficient as the vanesco one I developed two years ago._

He rolled the parchment up, held the tip of his wand to it as he called a clear picture of Simmons to his mind’s eye. With a sharp motion, he tapped his wand and the scroll disappeared with a crack. Simmons’ response took more time, of course, and it flew in just before he expected the students of his next class to arrive. Fitz reached out and grabbed it from the air before it could land, and he unfolded it quickly. 

_Hogsmeade sounds wonderful. Let’s plan for some time at Madam Puddifoot’s, which will be much better for discreet conversation. And let’s also plan for some time where you can teach me that brilliant charm!_

Fitz smiled, folding the parchment and sticking it inside his robes. He felt a strange combination of excitement and nerves. There was no need to be nervous, of course; she was simply thinking of where they could have quiet privacy. He had just never gone to Madam Puddifoot’s with a girl before – or at all, in fact – and so was reading too much into it.

Fitz breathed out unsteadily, then shook his head at himself. He closed his eyes, swallowed, and forced all thoughts of Simmons out of his brain. He had a class to teach.

**

Switching from the still-cool, near-spring outdoors to the toasty warmth of Madam Puddifoot’s made Jemma turn quite red. At least that’s what she was telling herself, as Fitz held the door open and gestured for her to enter. She smiled at him as she passed, then looked inside – it was still fairly early in the day, so few of the student couples were there and Bobbi and Hunter were both on chaperone duty at the castle, so she didn’t expect any of the faculty either. It really was the _perfect_ choice of location to talk over more private matters with Fitz.

She led him to a table for two in the back, for some reason remembering back several months now to when he pulled her chair out at the faculty table one day for no apparent reason. Obviously, he wouldn’t be doing anything like that. It’s not like they were on a date. 

Jemma breathed out unsteadily, then hurried to the chair, pulling it out and sitting down before Fitz could catch up. 

“Is here all right?” she asked belatedly.

Fitz nodded, seeming uncomfortable as he too sat down. Jemma suddenly wished there were other seating options in the establishment – she hadn’t realized how close they’d end up at the small circular table. Their faces were mere inches from each other, and their knees actually touched. Jemma smoothed out the tablecloth so she’d have something to do with her hands. 

“What will you have, loves?” 

They both looked up in surprise at the interruption, although it really should have been expected. Jemma couldn’t stop her nervous laughter, and then placed her order. Fitz stammered out his own preference. 

“Have you had the raspberry chocolate scone here?” Jemma asked. “It’s delicious.”

Fitz nodded, then shook his head quickly. “No, that sounds great.”

Jemma added them to the order, then waited until they were alone again. “I can’t believe you’ve never had them,” she teased. “They seem like something you – ”

“I’ve never been here before,” Fitz interrupted, not meeting her eyes and blushing slightly.

“Oh!” Jemma hesitated, surprised. “Never?”

Fitz only shrugged in reply.

“I thought you and – well, didn’t you date – ”

Fitz looked up at her, apparently too confused to remain embarrassed. “Who?”

“Well…Ophelia Radcliffe,” Jemma finally said. 

“God, no,” Fitz replied, somewhat aghast.

She supposed now, after understanding a bit more about his antipathy towards Slytherin students, it did seem somewhat unlikely. But Jemma clearly remembered how her housemate had set her sights on Fitz, despite the fact that they were two years younger than her, and how she seemed to always be where he was. And she also remembered how Fitz would blush and stutter as Ophelia would touch his arm or shoulder or chest. Jemma only assumed that if that was how she behaved in public, then surely…

“She terrified me, actually,” Fitz confessed. “Always trying to get her hands on me.”

“I would think most fifteen-year-old boys would like that,” Jemma replied, more curious than skeptical. 

“I mean…I probably would have if – ”

He broke off, staring down at the napkin he was crumpling as he ran it through his fingers. 

“If?”

He shrugged, not looking up at her. “It had been someone else. Someone less – someone more – someone else.”

“Hmm,” was Jemma’s only reply. 

And then they were interrupted again. The pot of hot water was placed between them, along with a plate holding the scones. Each received their own cup, complete with loose leaves of their preferred tea. Jemma nodded her thanks at the waitress, and watched as Fitz carefully poured water first in her cup and then in his. 

Jemma used the opportunity to change the subject, feeling a bit strange about what they had just been discussing and desperate to get them back on track. 

“The _powers_ aren’t new,” she blurted. 

Fitz looked up in surprise, the teapot clanging against the trivet as he placed it down. 

“Pardon?”

“I found references dating back hundreds of years. They weren’t as widespread, but they aren’t new. And they seem to be concentrated in certain families and regions.” 

They leaned closer, talking for well over an hour about the various things she had found in the Restricted Section, including references to a spell or potion that could even be used to identify or reveal latent powers. It was only when students started appearing at the teashop, especially when a few spotted them and started tittering amongst themselves, that they decided to leave. As the waitress cleaned up, she winked at them, reminding them to read their tea leaves. Fitz looked down, and moments later, choked as he turned an alarming shade of red. He flipped the cup over before Jemma could peer inside.

She looked in her own, taking a second to recall what the different shapes meant and then – well – hmm. Divination was a silly magic anyway. Most likely Madam Puddifoot’s just bewitched their leaves to always give such fanciful romantic suggestions.


	10. Chapter 10

For the rest of the afternoon, Fitz and Simmons strolled around a variety of shops. First, they popped into Zonko’s just to make the schoolchildren nervous, although it had perhaps less of an effect than it otherwise might have, considering both Grant Ward and Skye were in there already, even if they weren’t on duty. Fitz hid his smile as Simmons excitedly investigated all the rows at J. Pippin’s Potions, then they both got lost in the stacks of books at Tomes and Scrolls. Finally, they replenished their quills and grabbed numerous rolls of parchment at Scrivenshaft’s. 

From there, Fitz led the way towards the Shrieking Shack. Using a downed tree trunk as a bench, they sat down – quite close to each other, due to the small amount of comfortable space available to them. 

“It’s similar to Apparating,” Fitz explained, “but you simply send the letter instead of yourself. That’s why it still works in Hogwarts – it only involves inanimate objects.” 

Simmons hummed in acknowledgment, intently watching his hands as he tightly rolled a scroll for them to practice on. 

“I’m going to send it to you, so be ready.”

He closed his eyes, feeling rather silly as he pictured her sitting right next to him. And then he did the spell, producing a _crack_ that was followed almost immediately by another one and a gasp from Simmons. Fitz smiled, opening his eyes to see her holding the scroll. 

“Let me show you the wand movement again, slowly.” 

He mimed the process several times, with Simmons repeating. She mastered the movement with only a couple tries, but Fitz kept offering small corrections, enjoying their time together too much to cut it short. And perhaps he pushed his luck slightly, by reaching out and holding her hand to direct it, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her first real test was to just send it to him, which she successfully managed. He stepped back several feet, and then again, and then again. 

“I think you’ve got it,” he said, as he sat next to her again, “but we should test for real.”

“What do you have in mind?” Simmons asked, smiling and leaning closer. 

He pulled out one of his new quills and unrolled one of the scrolls. Propping one knee up carefully and resting the parchment against it, Fitz scrawled a very illegible note. 

“I’m not sure Mack will be able to read that,” Simmons teased. 

“Hush. Now, here. Try it.”

Simmons took the scroll, then stood up. 

“Why are you standing?” Fitz asked, laughing.

“I don’t know. Because I’m closer now.”

Fitz laughed even louder, only forcing himself to stop when she glared a warning at him. Then she closed her eyes. He could see her mumbling the spell in practice, and occasionally Mack’s name, and then she moved her wand. The scroll disappeared with a crack and they both held their breath. Fitz stood as well, walking closer until he was right beside her.

Moments later, a shower of sparkling stars streamed into the sky approximately above the Hospital Wing, although Fitz couldn’t imagine why Mack would be there. Fitz wasn’t sure who cheered louder, or who reached out to hug the other one first, but too soon he and Simmons were awkwardly, embarrassedly pulling away from each other.

“Thank you, Fitz,” Simmons said, pausing to clear her throat. “I think that will be a very useful charm to know.”

“You’re entirely welcome. I’m not at all surprised you mastered it so quickly.”

Simmons beamed at him, and Fitz ducked his head, unable to hold her gaze.

**

“Now, just like we’ve discussed, focus on the power, feel it inside you and very gently – release it.”

Jemma held her breath, watching the small bowl of pebbles begin to tremble slightly. The first several weeks of experimentation had been devoted to simply finding effective and sustainable ways to stop the _powers_ when they began. That had involved as much mental and emotional work as physical and magical. Fitz told her they were using techniques from a Muggle field of study that he called _sykology_. And now, they were moving onto _using_ the powers – still to Jemma’s concerned hesitation. She still thought suppression was something that, if not Skye, then some witches or wizards would prefer, and she was getting closer to a potion she felt comfortable giving to a living person. But she wasn’t sure how either Skye or Fitz would react to the idea. 

“Very good, Skye,” Fitz observed, looking back and forth between his scribbled notes and the pebbles that still clanked together. “You’ve improved so much.”

“Well,” Skye said, almost sounding sly, “it’s because of you two helping me. You really make a great team, you know that?”

Jemma found she couldn’t look in Fitz’s direction. His response consisted of clearing his throat repeatedly and a stammered “Yes, well.”

“Try again, Skye,” Jemma directed in an attempt to get everyone back on track and off of topics that were best left undiscussed. 

Despite her frustrated expression, Skye did even better on the next attempt.

**

As the last blushing boy and tittering girl left the Potions dungeon, Jemma sighed. She probably could have guessed the love potions unit would be rife with silliness but she hoped the students at least took her warnings to heart. To be safe, however, she had them stopper their vials of Amortentia immediately, and she planned to mark them in the privacy of the dungeon once they all left.

But it would have to be held for later, as she expected Fitz and Skye soon to test a different potion entirely. 

Perhaps, however, she would just take a quick sniff of Ms. Amador’s results. Jemma had high hopes for her, and had already mentioned her to several of her contacts in the Ministry and private potions labs. Jemma was sure that if anyone had successfully brewed today, it would be her. 

Jemma reached out for the vial and carefully wiggled the stopper out of the top of the tube. Holding the glass with one hand, she pinched the stopper between two fingers of her other and used the rest to waft the scent at her nose.

She immediately frowned, then sniffed a little harder. She expected the scent of the wind blowing off the sea at night, and the burnt smoke of a candle just extinguished, and droplets of ink splashing onto blank parchment. Instead, she got fresh, hot tea, and leaves swirling around her feet in late autumn, and the scratchy stuffiness of a scarf wrapped around her nose and… 

“Did you spill some of your perfume?”

Jemma jumped at the interruption, nearly upending the vial. She turned to the door, breathing out sharply. Putting the stopper back into the vial, she offered him a smile. 

“I don’t wear perfume,” she said.

He sniffed again, eyes darting to the side as he concentrated. Then, he shrugged. “Don’t smell it anymore. Must have been imagining things.”

Jemma looked down at the potion sample in her hand, then she returned it to her desk, her hand slightly shaking. 

“Tea?” she asked brightly. They had a few moments to spare before Skye arrived. 

Fitz nodded immediately, and Jemma led the way to the back of the room where she kept her kettle and cups. As she prepared their drinks, Fitz told her about his day, and the poorly executed charm that sent Campbell to the Hospital Wing with lightning burns. His story was cut short when Skye entered the room.

“Afternoon!” she greeted them pleasantly, if somewhat distractedly. “Oh, is this the potion you want me to try?”

Unfortunately, Jemma had just drunk from her teacup, and so she choked, coughing slightly, as she tried to stop Skye from unstopping one of the samples. She stood, still trying to clear her throat, and walked down the aisle.

“Wait,” she managed.

But Skye had already opened the vial. Jemma reached out for it a moment too late. 

“Oh wow, it smells so good! What is that? You know what it smells like? Like – ”

“That’s not – it’s something else.”

“What is it?” Skye asked, her eyes closing as she followed after the vial with a slight smile on her face. 

“Amortentia,” Fitz answered, somewhat surprisingly. Jemma glanced back at him, but he didn’t meet her eye. He was blushing horribly, however. “I just recalled you mentioned you were doing love potions this week.”

“Oh! A _love potion_?”

“Yes,” Jemma answered, proud of herself because her voice only slightly shook. “It smells like whatever you’re most attracted to.”

“Oh. I _see_.” Skye didn’t speak again for a moment, instead giggling to herself. And then she seemed to remember where she was and who she was talking to. Not that that stopped her from asking inappropriately, “What do you _two_ smell?”

She looked back and forth between them expectantly, almost hopefully.

“Let’s get to work, shall we?” was Jemma’s only reply. 

But all three of them were scatterbrained – Jemma wondered if Fitz’s distraction was anything like her own – and unproductive. Eventually, Skye simply asked to be excused, and Jemma agreed readily.

As she left the room, Skye mumbled something about needing to finally tell someone something. Jemma wondered for a brief moment, and then her attention was completely absorbed with Fitz taking his own leave. He still couldn’t make eye contact.

**

Jemma slept fitfully that night, which was perhaps the only reason she heard whispering and footfalls passing her suite. Students out of bed, and considering the direction they were coming from, they were her students as well. Jemma sighed loudly, throwing her sheets aside and tugging on her wrap. She grabbed her wand off her table and headed towards the door.

She began to mentally count the number of points by which Slytherin currently led in the House Cup, trying to determine how many students could afford to lose points before she really got mad. 

“Lumos,” Jemma bit out, just as she pulled open the door. 

With a gasp, she closed it again. “Nox.”

She held her wand against her chest, just above her suddenly pounding heart. Holding her breath, she waited for some sign that the intruders had seen her. Several long, stressful minutes passed, and Jemma finally concluded she had gone unnoticed. 

She hadn’t recognized any of the individuals walking past her room, but they were too old to be students and certainly seemed up to no good. Jemma considered chasing after them, but she was too smart to take on five, maybe six opponents by herself. There was no way she could even pass them until at least the secret corridor three flights of stairs away. She also refused to leave her students down here alone, with no adult to protect them. 

But how could she warn the rest of the castle? 

Almost immediately, Jemma rolled her eyes at herself. Of course. 

She practically ran across the room to her desk. She pulled out a scroll. The quill scratched across the parchment as she wrote as fast as she could. As she had only minimal details to share, her message was completed quickly. Jemma then tapped the scroll with her wand.

“Gemino,” she incanted again and again until she had enough copies. 

And then she closed her eyes, thinking first of Fitz, then of the Headmaster, and Bobbi, Hunter and Mack, Madam Rodriguez and of course Madam May. With each wave of her hand and each _crack_ , another scroll disappeared. 

As soon as the messages were sent, Jemma was on the move again, intent to get to her Common Room to defend her students and any others that found their way to her once whatever was about to happen began.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skirting the edges of the rating at the beginning of this chapter.

The scent that had so enticed and distracted Fitz earlier was clearly recognizable now. He tilted his head slightly, inhaling deeply and moaning. Simmons answered with a shuddering sigh of her own, curving her body against his. She reached up, placing both hands to his cheeks and drawing him back into a kiss. The heat of her mouth scorched him, and he groaned against her lips before deepening their connection. 

Fitz had no intention of asking her what had changed, why she had shown up in his suite and threw herself at him. He may not have been sorted into Ravenclaw, but he was smart enough not to risk her stopping and running away again. And he may not have been sorted into Gryffindor, but he was brave enough to roll them over until she was beneath him, her legs rising to hook around his hips as he shifted his weight to one arm and slid the other one _down_. He fumbled with her robes, finally finding where they opened and slipping his hand through. Beneath the robes, he was surprised to discover she was naked from the waist down. He jolted back in shock, his eyes flying open to meet hers. She merely gave him a saucy, seductive grin, and with a whimper, he closed the distance between them again. 

As his hand caressed her, he focused the rest of his attention on her throat and jaw, sucking and kissing her soft skin. He felt Simmons’ warm breath as she gasped into his ear, and then he felt the brush of her lips as she began to whisper. 

_CRACK._

Fitz jumped wildly, catching himself just before he fell off his bed. He looked around in confusion, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Moments later, he realized he was – well, pitching a tent beneath his blanket. He groaned, scrubbing one hand across his face as the details of his dream flashed in front of his eyes. He didn’t know if he was disappointed or grateful that he woke before the dream had reached its conclusion.

But what had woken him? 

It didn’t take him long to spot the parchment on the bed next to him, but that did little to satisfy his curiosity. He reached out quickly, wondering what Simmons wanted to say to him so late at – 

The words didn’t register at first, but as they begun to sink in, he sat up straighter. His heart began to pound, and he rolled out of bed quickly. Pulling on his clothes and grabbing his wand, Fitz snuck out of his suite, padding softly across the stone floor until he reached the entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room. He’d send the students to the dungeons first, as Simmons had suggested, and then he’d go find the other teachers.

**

Skye sort of wanted to scold the first year who clung to her hand and sniffled loudly every few moments. But she kept reminding herself that they were all afraid and scolding wouldn’t help. Ever since Professor Fitz had woken her with one hand over her mouth and the index finger of his other hand held to his lips, she had alternated between terror and a strange sort of excitement. It was the latter that she drew upon as she hurried the younger Hufflepuffs along.

She wondered who had broken into the castle and what they wanted. She wondered if there wasn’t something she could or should be doing to help, beyond babysitting. What was the point of her powers, otherwise? 

Any belief that she’d be helpful was crushed when a piece of wall halfway down the stairs swung open and she jumped nearly a foot in the air. After a moment of confusion and alarm, Skye relaxed and lowered her wand.

“No, no – keep your wands at the ready,” Professor Hunter directed. “Follow me.”

He backed into the passage again, and Skye gestured at the smaller students around her. They all followed one-by-one and Skye looked around the castle one more time before she too stepped inside. The bricks closed behind her, concealing their escape.

**

“Through here, hurry,” Jemma whispered urgently, waving the newest arrivals past her and into the dungeons. Judging by the number of students already there, it might be the last group she should expect.

It was perhaps not the most ideal strategy – in many ways, it made them easy targets. But on the other hand, it was a defensible location and an unlikely place to look. Not that the students were necessarily at risk, anyway. She supposed there were any number of nefarious reasons why one might break into Hogwarts. But the most obvious one was to attack or kidnap students. 

“I can help,” Skye said as she reached Jemma. “Maybe I can – you know.”

Her only response was a shake of her head, unwilling to let Skye entertain the notion. “I’m sure the other teachers have everything under control, Skye. Besides,” she added, “your job as a prefect is to keep all the other students safe and well-behaved, right? That’s the best way you can help right now.”

Skye nodded, determined if clearly still somewhat frustrated. Then she looked around the crowded dungeon.

“Where is…”

“Hmm?” Jemma asked, distracted as she thought about how best to conceal the students. A charm, perhaps? 

“It’s just – all the other prefects are here except…where’s Ward?”

Brought back to the conversation with a sharp bob of her head, Jemma scanned the students. It occurred to her then that he hadn’t been there even when she evacuated the Slytherin rooms.

“Skye, when was the last time you saw him?” There was a long pause of silence. Jemma began to suspect the worst. “Skye?”

“This afternoon,” she whispered. “After our training session. I – I told him – ”

“Told him what?”

“It’s just – the potion smelled like – and I thought – ”

“Told him _what_ , Skye?”

“About…about my powers.”

“And then he told me.”

The response was unexpected and sent a strange chill of terror up and down Jemma’s spine. It was a familiar voice, one Jemma had been secretly afraid of all throughout her years at Hogwarts. She turned slowly, tightening her grip on her wand but not raising it quite yet. She didn’t want to draw any attention to it before she had to. 

“Minister,” she managed to say, “What are you doing here?” 

“The time for talk is over,” Garrett continued, only partly sounding like he was even answering her question. “I am here for all powered students. I need to know their secrets, and I’m tired of waiting.”

Jemma stood straighter, stepping forward just slightly in order to block Skye. “No,” was her only response.

“Miss Simmons,” Garrett said with a sigh. “You never did belong in Slytherin. Now step aside.”

“No,” Jemma repeated. 

“I am the Minister for Magic, and you will – ”

“You have no power over anything that matters,” Jemma informed him.

Garrett didn’t respond beyond raising his wand, but Jemma was faster. Using the same curse that had sent Fitz flying during their fake duel, she attacked. Moments later, Garrett was unconscious on the floor. Jemma glanced over her shoulder to check on the students, and she was met with a hundred or so pairs of wide eyes and open mouths. She turned away, hurried forward, and transfigured a rope hanging off a nearby tapestry into chains. 

Before she had even begun to wrap them around Garrett, she was startled by Skye joining her. Together, they tied him up.

“OK,” Jemma said when they finished, gesturing as she guided Skye back to the dungeon. “Back inside.”

And now, she should join the others, make sure that F – everyone was OK. But she couldn’t leave the students unprotected. 

“We can close the gate,” someone – Joey Gutierrez – said. “Completely. They won’t know we’re in here.”

Jemma looked at him, confused. The spaces between the bars of the gate would hardly conceal the students. 

“I think I can melt them into one solid piece of metal,” he explained.

And then he demonstrated exactly what he meant. Jemma gaped as he reached a hand out and focused on the gate door. The metal liquefied and started to reshape itself. Other students in the room reacted with a mix of surprise and perhaps some fear. It was Skye who took control of the situation, her exclamations of awe turning the mood positive. Jemma stepped backwards, so she wasn’t trapped in the dungeon with them. 

Joey looked at her, smiling, even as the door continued to fill in. “Something Professor Fitz said,” he explained, sounding pleased with himself. “Something just clicked. I didn’t know magic could be like that. I felt like something inside me was singing, like all the empty places became full.”

Jemma blinked, not sure how to react. Finally, she just said, “Someone better light the torches in there.”

Joey’s fellow Ravenclaw, Lincoln Campbell, stepped forward. “I’ve got it,” he declared. 

She wasn’t even surprised by that point when Lincoln gestured with the hand _not_ holding his wand and lightning cracked near the ceiling and sparked near one of the torches. 

Jemma shared eye contact with Skye, who smiled widely. 

“Go help the others. We’ll be fine.” 

“Don’t open this back up, unless it’s the Headmaster, Professor Fitz, or me,” Jemma directed. 

And then she ran off.

**

Fitz jumped in surprise when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, not sure who to expect since Bobbi, Mack and Hunter were all ahead of him, peering around the corner to check for danger. With a sigh of relief, he felt his shoulders relax – and then he reached out to hug Simmons.

“Are you OK?”

She nodded, squeezing him tightly.

“And the children?”

“All safe,” she confirmed. 

Fitz pulled away and stared at her for a moment, lips moving uselessly as he tried to think of something to say that – 

“Come on!” Bobbi whispered harshly. “All clear.”

Fitz turned away, leading Jemma down the hall. She didn’t completely separate, though – it took Fitz a second to realize she was gripping his hand. He intertwined their fingers and clutched his wand tighter. 

The group made it through three corridors before they encountered the next threat. A witch and wizard had made it all the way to the hospital wing. Thankfully, there were no ill or injured students, but there was Madam Rodriguez. She stood, facing the intruders defiantly. Fitz felt Mack tense beside him, then raise his wand as if to attack.

Fitz reached his hand out, calmly restraining Mack for the moment.

“What?”

“Not yet. We should figure out how best – ”

“Pretty sure something like _Reducto_ would work just fine.”

“Not if it takes down the whole ceiling on Madam Rodriguez,” Bobbi pointed out in a whisper.

“Then what is magic for? What is the _use_ of wizardry if it can’t even save – ”

“Mack,” Jemma interrupted. “That’s what heroes are for.”

Fitz and Jemma shared a glance, and the moment seemed strangely charged. Fitz felt a frisson of excitement and awe over their magical abilities, and more importantly, all the ways they could use it to protect and save the people they loved. Jemma offered him a half-smile.

“Right,” Mack said, interrupting. “I need a distraction.”

Jemma broke eye contact, and Fitz could almost see the wheels turning in her head. 

“Get ready,” she ordered in a whisper. 

Suddenly, a wispy blue unicorn charged from where they were hiding, aiming for and scattering the two threatening Madam Rodriguez. It took a moment for Fitz to realize it was a Patronus – Jemma’s Patronus, in fact. It was beautiful and powerful and…a _unicorn_.

Mack ran out after it, heading straight for Madam Rodriguez. She looked over and saw them and, with the bad guys distracted, she ran to meet them. She moved so fast, Fitz could have believed she’d managed to apparate in the school. But he didn’t have time to wonder about that. Not when his curiosity was focused solely on Jemma.

“I thought you said it was a narwhal,” he observed, almost accusatorily. 

Jemma seemed equally thrown, though. “It’s changed!” After a moment, she mused, “Why on earth would it change?”

Bobbi spoke up then. “It can happen when you’re in love or pining,” she reminded them both, smirking slightly. 

“But…” Jemma seemed almost ready to deny the whole suggestion, but then she simply focused more on the facts in front of her. “Why a unicorn?”

Fitz stared at her for a long beat, not quite believing it, but all he could think was that the unicorn was Scotland’s national animal.

Marveling at his own boldness, he spoke. “I don’t think it was a mistake, and if we survive this, I want to be very unprofessional with you.”

She stared back at him, starting to blush but not looking away.

**

Things happened quickly after that. Each intruding wizard was captured or rendered unconscious, one after the other. Their own group grew in size as they encountered Will and other members of the staff and even some students who hadn’t made it to the dungeons.

They ran into one wizard unexpectedly, as they turned a corner. Hunter wrestled with him before being pushed to the ground. Several nerve-wracking moments passed as they watched the man reach into his pocket for his wand and – come up empty. From his spot on the ground, Hunter smirked and waved the wand at its owner, making some sarcastic comment about second-rate pickpockets beating out magicians. The man didn’t have time to respond though, before Bobbi yelled out a curse that sent him flying. The others pretended not to notice how worried she seemed, and she only partially hid it by yelling at Hunter for the next five minutes. 

They ran into Madam May just outside the Great Hall, one hand gripping Grant Ward’s arm as she marched him along. 

“Coulson?” she asked, not even bothering to greet them. 

No one had seen him, though. May carried on then, leading the way toward the Headmaster’s Office. They were halfway there when they spotted him, throwing spells back and forth with Malick. They arrived just in time to see Coulson win the duel. 

Hogwarts was safe.


	12. Chapter 12

A few weeks later, the excited buzz in the school had started to die down, only to explode again when Coulson announced final exams would be cancelled. In fact, the focus on the break-in meant that, thankfully, no student gossips had even realized that Fitz and Jemma were…well, something more. Of course, perhaps the amount of time they spent together did not even seem unusual. And a little to Jemma’s disappointment, not much had changed between them. She confirmed that she too wanted a relationship, and they certainly kissed, but with all the chaos between the attack and wrapping up classes, they hadn’t really had time or opportunity to do much more than that. 

Which was why she was feeling rather frustrated when she had to cancel a planned meeting during their free periods to answer a summons from Headmaster Coulson. Her second trip to his office felt no less intimidating than the first, especially when the door opened and no one was there.

Curious and a bit concerned, Jemma walked into the room slowly. She turned in a circle, taking in the room, wondering if she had just missed Coulson – but the room was indeed empty. 

Except for the Sorting Hat. 

Jemma walked closer, as if compelled. She even had one hand reaching out to touch it before she caught herself. Tilting her head to the side, Jemma stared. 

Would it – if she – if she put it on, would it finally talk to her? Would she be able to learn what it had seen in her all those years ago, and why it hadn’t said anything, and why it had placed her in Slytherin? And then she turned away, putting it out of her mind. She didn’t care. She knew who she was. 

Jemma jumped in surprise when she realized she wasn’t alone.

“Hello,” she greeted the newly appointed interim Minister for Magic. 

“Hello, Professor Simmons,” the Minister began, as if he hadn’t just appeared out of nowhere in someone else’s office. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“I was expecting the Headmaster,” she responded, a little rude in her confusion. 

“Yes, he graciously agreed to let me use this space. Easier for travel, you understand. Please, sit down.”

Somewhat warily, Jemma stepped over to the indicated chair. Smoothing out her robes beneath her, she slowly sat. After a moment of silence, she took a breath.

“Minister Mace, I – ”

“I’ve asked you here to offer you a position as a Special Advisor to the Ministry. These powers need to be better understood, and I think you’re just the witch for the job.”

Jemma blinked, processing the surprising offer. And then she shook her head. “No. I’m sorry.”

It was Mace’s turn to appear surprised. Jemma supposed it was unusual, particularly for an ambitious person such as herself, to turn down a key role in the magical government. But she didn’t regret her decision for a moment.

“There will be more and more students coming to Hogwarts with powers,” she explained. “And they will need teachers who can help them handle their abilities in whatever way is best for them.”

And she and Fitz made a pretty good team at that, she thought to herself.

**

Fitz couldn’t even feel disappointed, considering the look of pure happiness on Mack’s face as Coulson announced the winner of the House Cup and the banners in the Great Hall changed to match Ravenclaw’s colors. Due to both Joey and Lincoln acting to protect the rest of the students, there was no chance of catching up. He applauded, adding in a loud whistle and a whoop for good measure. Next to him, Jemma laughed quietly at his antics. Glancing over at her, he shrugged somewhat self-deprecatingly.

“I guess we both lost,” she observed, leaning closer to whisper. “Double or nothing next year?”

Fitz refused to look away from her, letting the gaze in his eyes turn warm and his smile turn lazy. “Or maybe that means we both have to do whatever the other one wants?” he countered as suggestively as possible.

Jemma’s own smile grew larger and more wicked. “In that case, I think we’re both winners.”

It took all of Fitz’s willpower not to kiss her right there. Instead, he watched, somewhat confused, as Jemma looked around the room again. The students were ecstatic to have completed another year, even more so considering the attack. In the chaos, no one was paying any attention to them. Jemma met his eyes again.

“Follow me out in a few minutes,” she ordered. 

She stood and walked calmly and discreetly off the dais and along the side wall towards the doors. Fitz never took his eyes off her as she made her way out of the room. He felt nervous and excited and a bit uncertain and incredibly eager. Pretty much the same way he’d been feeling for weeks now. Since he bumped into Jemma on the train so many months ago, actually, if he was being honest. 

An excruciating two minutes later, he stood and carefully made his own way out. Risking a glance back, he confirmed no one seemed to notice. The festivities were far too distracting to the rest of the school.

He found Jemma just outside the Great Hall. Without a word, she grabbed his hand and began to pull. To his surprise, they did not head towards her suite by the dungeons or his by the kitchen, but instead they climbed the stairs. He felt winded and his legs were more than a little sore by the time they made it to the seventh floor. 

“Where are you taking me?” Fitz asked, laughing, as soon as he caught his breath.

Jemma didn’t answer. She walked halfway down the hallway before stopping momentarily. With a growl, she turned around. Nearly bumping into him, she started down the way they had just come.

“Jemma?”

“I could have sworn it was right…”

She turned again, and Fitz nearly tripped as he stumbled to follow. 

“Oh! Here it is. How did I miss it before?”

Fitz narrowed his eyes, staring at the door. It _hadn’t_ been there before, he would have bet on it. Perhaps. Or perhaps his brain wasn’t fully functioning considering...well, considering. 

Regardless, Jemma reached out and turned the knob.

“Is this the same…?” Fitz began, and then stopped talking abruptly. “Jemma, we’re not – this is someone’s bedroom.”

The small closet that Fitz had been expecting wasn’t there anymore. In its place was a large four-poster bed covered with numerous pillows and what appeared to be truly luxurious sheets. Lit candles glowed from the corners and in little recessed sconces. Some were even floating near the bed, adding to the overall ambience of the room. 

“Even if it is someone’s room,” Jemma observed mischievously. “Everyone’s at the party.”

Fitz nodded. “Good point.”

Jemma tugged on his hand again, pulling him forward until they both cleared the doorway. Fitz kicked it shut behind him. And then he moved even closer to Jemma, lowering his head to kiss her even as he maneuvered her closer to the bed.

**

Jemma admired the ring on Bobbi’s finger with the appropriate amount of enthusiasm. Secretly, she imagined what it’d be like to have one of her own in a year or two. She wondered how long it would take Fitz to ask her, and if she’d just have to ask him first. She really didn’t want to wait as long as Bobbi and Hunter had.

Hunter himself was regaling them with the story of the proposal, and she suspected it was a bit of an embellishment. That suspicion was only confirmed by Bobbi’s snort of derision.

“He thinks he’s so romantic,” she said to Jemma. “What do men know? He didn’t even realize he liked me until – ”

“Nah, I knew from the very beginning, sweetheart,” Hunter interrupted, the term of endearment somewhere between sarcastic and sincere. 

“Oh, really?” Bobbi challenged.

“Yep. I was gonna be put in Ravenclaw, but I begged the Hat to keep me with you – ”

“You were sorted before me, you lying – ”

“ – after that very memorable first train ride.”

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “I kicked him in the shin after he tricked some kid out of his chocolate frog.”

Hunter held a hand to his chest in an exaggerated display of nostalgic emotion, and then he reached out to pull Bobbi away, guiding her towards the train in question. 

“Ravenclaw, huh? You really think you – ” Jemma could hear her ask.

“OK, probably not, but it makes a great story, doesn’t it?”

“You belong in Slytherin with Jemma,” Bobbi replied, scoffing. 

“Maybe our kid will be.”

“Our kid?!” Bobbi screeched.

“What do you think of the name Amadeus?” Hunter asked, the humor in his tone evident.

Jemma didn’t hear Bobbi’s exact response as they continued to bicker even as they stepped into the train. Once they were out of sight and earshot, she turned back to face Fitz. He was smiling fondly at their friends, but made eye contact with Jemma soon enough. She desperately wanted to reach out for his hand, or even kiss his cheek, but she wouldn’t do anything of the sort when there were still students around. Judging by his expression, though, she knew he felt the same way. 

“Will you come visit me in Manchester this summer?” she asked, feeling strangely nervous.

Fitz nodded immediately. “Just say when. Just – just try to keep me away.”

Jemma smiled, ducking her head. “Why would I do that?” 

“And you’ll come see me? I…I would like you to meet…well, my mum.”

The urge to kiss him was overwhelmingly strong. Jemma might have even given in, professionalism be damned, if they hadn’t been interrupted by Skye. 

“Have a good summer, Professors!”

“You too, Skye,” Jemma replied cheerfully. 

Fitz nodded. “Keep working on your control. The ministry can’t really stop you from doing that, just more traditional magic.”

“I will,” Skye promised.

“I hope you won’t be too lonely at the orphanage,” Jemma added. Skye had told her once how much she hated returning there every summer. Even though she was friendly with a number of students at Hogwarts, there never seemed to be any place else for her to go. 

And yet, Skye beamed widely. “I’ll only be there for a little while,” she announced with extreme excitement. “And then I’m going to spend a few weeks with Madame May, learning everything she has to teach me, and then the rest of the summer, I’m going on vacation with Lincoln and his family.”

“Lincoln?” Fitz asked, somewhat surprised. And adorably, rather protective. “You mean Campbell? From Ravenclaw?”

“Yes! He and Joey and I are going to form a club next year. One for powered and non-powered students alike. We’ll be working out all the plans this summer and – oh, there’s Joey now! Bye! See you next year!”

Skye started to walk away and then stopped in her tracks. She faced them again, and with a very earnest, urgent, and strangely significant tone, she said “I do hope you two will stay in touch this summer.”

Jemma narrowed her eyes in confusion, and watched as Skye hurried away to meet her newest friends. She faced Fitz and wondered aloud what her final statement had been about. Fitz simply shrugged.

**

Fitz’s room at his mum’s house was small, much smaller than Jemma’s at her flat in Manchester. But he was pretty sure they’d squeeze in together anyway, even if it was only just to sleep. Jemma and his mum had hit it off immediately. His mum told Jemma a bunch of stories from Fitz’s youth, and he tried to argue that she was exaggerating the number of times Fitz would write home to complain about that Slytherin girl, Jemma Simmons. Jemma’s pleased, almost bashful smile was worth the embarrassment though. And her confession that she had been just as _aware_ of him all through their time as students made him flush with happiness.

And later, when she kissed him senseless in his childhood bedroom, he had wanted to pull her down to the mattress and have his way with her. But instead he could only apologize. There was no way he would risk it, not with his mum just down the hall. It couldn’t be anything like their time in Manchester, when he had used charm after charm to loosen and remove her clothes piece by piece. Or when they had used her giant bed to – well, Fitz’s single would hardly be comparable. There were definite pros and cons to visiting his mum.

“So…you’re saying that you don’t intend to touch me at all the entire two weeks I’ll be here?” Jemma asked, pouting. 

Her lower lip begged to be sucked into his mouth. He could feel his commitment start to waver, and he reminded himself of the importance of keeping one’s promises. Especially promises made to one’s very own mother. 

“What if _**I**_ did the spells?” she suggested. “I’ve been working on a new way to…make things bigger.”

Fitz breathed out harshly, unable to control his response. He sent an apologetic grimace at the door to his bedroom, as if his mother elsewhere in the house would even know. And then he proceeded to break her long-standing no-magic rule. The bed swelled in size, giving them plenty of space to enjoy each other, and the door locked, and a muffling blanket of silence fell over them.

“You’re a bad influence, Jemma Simmons,” he informed her.

She walked closer, wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him down for a kiss. “I’m a Slytherin,” she reminded him just before their lips touched.

\---

_I think love is stronger than habits or circumstances. I think it is possible to keep yourself for someone for a long time and still remember why you were waiting when she comes at last._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, finished!
> 
> I posted this exceedingly quickly before work, so I might come back to edit slightly. If you see any typos, let me know!


End file.
